The Foundation of All Desire
by Feravai
Summary: Jedi Knight Liatrix, continues her quest to help Lord Scourge feel again. Grand Master Satele Shan senses disturbing changes in the Jedi, and summons SIS Agent Jonas Balker to tail the Jedi and learn if there is cause for concern, and weight to the disturbing visions The Grand Master has experienced about the young Hero of Tython.
1. Chapter 1

Notes and Disclaimers: Master Liatrix is my Jedi sentinel, and all other characters are gratefully borrowed from our lovely SWTOR universe. There maybe SPOILERY elements to those who have not yet participated in the JEDI KNIGHT storyline. Features Lord Scourge and Jedi Knight, SIS Agent Jonas Balkar and Satele Shan. Sort of a sequel to my first story, The Well of Undying. (Sorry, I know it's been a long while…)

Feed back is welcome. Enjoy!

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part One)**

**By: Feravai**

Master Liatrix hesitated outside the Jedi Council Chamber on Tython. She'd been there many times before—as an apprentice, a young Jedi Knight, and many times as a seasoned commander and Jedi Master. A feeling of dread coiled inside of her like a pit viper waiting to strike.

Liatrix closed her eyes, summoning a cloak of shadow to enshroud her mind. Melancholy replaced her dread and brought with it the semblance of peace. It was a false peace, but it was enough to secure her secrets. She had so many of them now—some she could barely admit even to herself. Nothing could change the fact that the secrets were in fact her truths. It began with one secret long ago. One secret begets many, and secrets are, after all, the first cousins of lies.

No matter how tense or dark the past had been, she had always been lauded for her service to the Republic. The darker decisions she'd made were explained away under the guise of military strategy—a firm hand was needed to lead…to triumph. She had saved millions of lives and had a hand in redeeming the Jedi who had fallen prey to the dark side.

_Only darkness can fight darkness…_

Even after the year spent under The Emperor's control, she hadn't felt so unnerved to face The Council as she did now. She was told, the evil deeds she'd done during this time, weren't her fault. She had been absolved and welcomed back into the fold, before delivering the severest of blows against the Empire. She was younger then, her secrets fewer and easier to hide, especially amid the stunning victories.

Liatrix pushed against the cold steel of the council door, and slipped inside. She paused a moment, expecting to see the entire Jedi Council seated before her, but was met only by the Grand Master, Satele Shan.

"Master Liatrix. Thank you for coming."

Liatrix remained placid, and nodded. "Forgive me, I thought the rest of the Council would be joining us."

"I thought it would be best if we spoke privately."

"Very well. I sense something is worrying you." Said Liatrix.

"Indeed." Satele nodded. "I'll get right to the point. I've seen some troubling changes in you Liatrix. You haven't been yourself."

"I assure you, I'm fine. I don't know what exactly has prompted you to worry, but there's no need."

"I'm concerned, that you're spending too much time in the company of your Sith companion, and that his views might be rubbing off on you. I see the two of you together, so often." Said Satele.

"It's true. We do spend a lot of time together, but it's for a good reason. I'm teaching Lord Scourge how to fit into our world. It's not as if the Sith would welcome him back with open arms after what happened. He's considered a traitor in his world, and met with suspicion, even hatred, in ours. It's difficult to give up a life you've known for over three hundred years, to start over."

"I can't deny that, however, I believe he's dangerous, Liatrix. He's shown no interest in becoming a Jedi, and in the few times we've spoken, I've noticed his eloquence. I see the effect of his words on you. They carry a lot of weight. The power of the dark side is subtle and seductive and some Jedi lose their way before they even realize it. When I see the two of you together, I wonder, who is the pupil and who is the master."

"Lord Scourge and I, share our ideas as equals. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. We don't always agree, but I think that's perfectly natural, given who we are. In fact, he once said to me, that most of what he's learned about the force was from the Jedi. Surely, that should give you some peace of mind?"

The Grand Master stood in silent contemplation, and turned her gaze up slowly. "I sense you are walking a very dangerous path."

"I always have." Liatrix smiled, trying for her most reassuring expression. "But I haven't failed you yet."

"Do be careful. The Council and the Republic rely on you."

"I'll be fine." Said Master Liatrix.

Satele Shan nodded, and backed away, wordlessly excusing Liatrix from the meeting. She watched the young Jedi Master slip out of the council chamber, the door closing behind her with a soft groan.

The Grand Master waited silently, until she no longer felt Liatrix's presence close by. She tugged down the hem of her tunic and glanced over her shoulder. The private entrance at the back of the chamber creaked open, seemingly on cue, and a tall shadow fell across the glossy marble floor.

"Did you get all of that Agent Balkar?" Said Satele.

"Jonas." The handsome SIS agent corrected. He liked to be informal, if he could swing it. "And yeah. I did."

"Do you have anything for me yet? I've had several disturbing visions, but nothing concrete. The future is always in motion."

Jonas shook his head. "Nothing solid. I have my people running checks on a few bank leads, security satellite footage, ship rentals, that sort of thing."

"Get back to me the minute you have something. I'm concerned. Something isn't right and I have to find out what it is. Before it's too late." Said Satele.

"I gotta get ready to move. I'll be keeping my eyes on her." Said Jonas.

"Thank you agent." Said Satele.

A week later, SIS Agent Jonas Balkar had tracked Master Liatrix to a cushy Coruscant condominium. To call it 'cushy' was an understatement. The condo was the sort purchased by senators and other wealthy uppity ups, not Jedi. Not even the Hero of Tython and holder of the Republic Cross of Glory. Most Jedi barely had lunch money. He shook his head. She had to be visiting someone important. Hardly a crime.

Much of the building was faced with rose-bronze tinted glass, and had it's own private landing pad. A small one, but a landing pad none the less—a rare luxury on fast-paced, crowded Coruscant. The balcony, with it's jungle like assortment of plants and fountains, was ideal to drown out the city's hustle and bustle. Balkar thought on his tiny three room hole-in-the wall by comparison and winced. He never spent much time there anyway.

He took up his jawa juice and took a swig from the mug. _I'm rusty at this._ It had been a long time, since he'd personally surveilled a subject. There were agents under him, who usually saw to this brand of investigation, leaving him to the more exciting jobs. If it hadn't been the Grand Master of the Jedi herself asking this of him, he'd have wondered who he had pissed off to get stuck with this detail. He peered through his hi-res macrobinoculars. Master Liatrix was back at the condo, and she wasn't alone—finally something of interest. His holo went off. _Damn it._

"Master Satele. I'm sorry. This isn't a good time."

"Anything to report, Agent?"

"My apologies. It takes time, and I do have a reputation of being thorough." Said Balkar.

"I do realize. Any news?"

"No. With a bit of finagling though, I managed to get a secure viewing location. Had to call in a few favors." Balkar glanced about the empty Valor class cruiser, conveniently moored across from the condominiums.

"You're on Coruscant?" Said Satele.

"For now." His brows furrowed. "I'm sorry Master Satele. I have a situation. Gotta run."

"Understood."

"Jonas out."

He clipped off the holo and slid it back into his pocket. "Now what are you up to Master Liatrix?" He muttered to himself, as he focused his macrobinoculars on the windows.

Master Liatrix faced the window, a bedroom window, from what he could see. She wore an elegant black gown—an expensive one he guessed, given the way the material skimmed her body. "Mmm, shimmersilk. Got to be." The last time he'd felt that material run through his fingers was when he spent a night with a set of blue skinned Twi'lek triplets on Nar Shadaa a few months back on his previous assignment. Hutts kept a lot of gorgeous women, but none of them held a candle to this young human Jedi woman he was stalking—er surveilling, he corrected himself.

She turned to face her as yet unseen companion. Even from where he watched, he could see she was beaming.

_Lucky guy whoever he is._

Balkar's gaze swept over her fine featured profile, then lower to the side swell of creamy breast skimmed by the watery material of her gown. If he had to guess, he would say it was Corellian. Corellian designers fashioned some of the most seductive clothes in the galaxy. He shifted uncomfortably, his trousers tightening, in places you don't want them tightening during work hours. He'd been working entirely too much lately. Coruscant simply didn't have the same night life, as Nar Shadaa.

What he saw next made him kick over his jawa juice, and nearly drop his macrobinoculars. A Sith Lord…not just any Sith Lord, but Lord Scourge, the former Wrath of the Emperor stood before her, clad only in his undershorts. Even though the Grand Master suspected the Jedi's Sith companion of being involved somehow, Balkar would never have guessed in a million light years, what he was about to become be privy to.

Watching Liatrix and the Sith wasn't enough anymore. Without taking his eyes off the Jedi's bedroom window, he rummaged through his equipment bag, until he found his parabolic listening device. He shoved the earphones on his head, and set the device up, using one hand. After the crackle of the static cleared, their voices came in loud and clear.

"Simply looking at you, is torment enough. Do you not tire of pursing this pointless course of action?" Said Lord Scourge.

The Jedi took a few steps closer to the hulking Sith, and peered up at him. "It's not pointless to me. Please try…"

"Only because it is you, that asks." Scourge murmured. He nudged her sepia coloured hair away from her face, and regarded her for a long time. The backs of his thick red skinned fingers skimmed the perfect side swell of breast Balkar had spied earlier. The Jedi closed her eyes, her lips softly pursed, in anticipation of a kiss. The Sith Lord bent and pressed his mouth to hers, the kiss tremulous—far softer than such a powerful man could be expected to deliver. The Jedi's hands ran over his ribcage to his sinewy muscled back, small pale fingers kneading the Sith's scarlet flesh. Liatrix drew back, just enough to allow the dress to fall in an ebony ring around her feet, before the pair became a tangle of limbs again.

A chorus of moans, sighs and growls sounded through Balkar's headset. The SIS agent drew a deep breath and held it for several beats, leaning forward, as he watched the couple's exchange heat up.

Lord Scourge swept the Jedi into his arms, carrying her the short distance to the bed. He set her down gingerly and took care to keep his weight off of her.

"This job isn't without it's perks." Balkar mumbled to himself and smirked. Then, for the second time in an hour Balkar kicked his jawa juice mug and jumped.

"What the…" He started, and fumbled the macrobinoculars. An angry growl vibrated through his headset, and then the sound of shattering glass, splintering wood. The agent refocused. The Sith Lord seethed, teeth gritted in pain, his hands and arms bloody to the elbows. He paced the condo like an injured jagalor.

To Balkar's disappointment, Master Liatrix had wrapped up in a robe and wept before the Sith Lord. "I'm so sorry."

"I told you it was a pointless exercise. I can't do this. No matter how much I desire it."

Liatrix winced. "You need kolto."

"No, what I need, is to stop torturing myself. Even if we had succeeded, what do you plan to do about the good doctor?" He sneered.

"The only thing I can do. I'm not worried about my husband right now. I love _you_. I need _you_. I want, _you_."

Balkar whistled low and long.

"Buying this stronghold…I was foolhardy." The Sith growled.

"No. It's the best thing we could have done. At least we can be alone together now."

Lord Scourge shook his head. "And that's going so well isn't it."

The Jedi winced as she dabbed at the Sith's cuts and picked out jags of glass. "These are deep, you're going to bleed out, if we don't get you kolto."

"Do you think I even feel it?" Said Scourge. "It's not as if I can die."

"All right. I admit it. This didn't go quite as we planned." Said Liatrix.

"You think?"

"We just need to do the ritual again. We need to disperse your pain even more. The city wasn't enough. We need a planet. That should do it…perhaps even this one. Millions live here. Look how far we got this time."

"And after that?" Said Lord Scourge.

"Another planet, if we need. The galaxy is full of them."

"Perhaps, I should simply call you, My Lord Emperor, from now on." Said Scourge.

Liatrix scowled. Scourge snatched her wrist and pulled her against him, his blood leaking onto her robe and skin, colouring it as red as his.

"Don't pout Jedi. It was a compliment. Think of all you could do as Emperor." Scourge pursed his lips, eyes gleaming, as he studied Liatrix.

"Well, as your Emperor…I can't have you bleeding all over our rugs. House keeping already has their hands full. Let's get that kolto."

"As you command, My Lord Emperor." The Sith Lord bowed, a mocking smirk lifting his lips.

The pair vanished from view. Balkar lowered his macrobinoculars. "An adulterous Jedi…forbidden rituals. This just gets better and better."

Jonas Balkar was sure of one thing: He had to meet the Jedi.

((To be continued…))

9 | Page


	2. Chapter 2

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part Two)**

Agent Jonas Balkar ran his hand over his jaw, and decided he needed a shave. Better yet, he needed time in the refresher. Nothing like steam and jets of hot water to make a man feel like himself again. Over the last three days, he'd fortified his stakeout of the Coruscant condo—positioning sensors, monitors, and recording devices. He didn't want to miss a thing.

After twenty minutes in the refresher, Balkar emerged shaven and clean. He rubbed at his unruly dark hair with a towel, until it settled into the rugged devil-may-care style he came by naturally. He tugged on a clean shirt and cargo pants, as he checked the monitors.

The Sith and the Jedi meditated together, ate together, and debated their respective beliefs regarding The Force. While they made no more attempts at consummating their relationship, they were none-the-less stunningly tender toward one another, in their bed and out.

Balkar felt a twinge of emotion rise in him, as he watched the couple. Envy? Maybe. He was hard pressed to put an exact label on what the feeling was. Stuffing gobs of energy pudding into his mouth, he resumed his surveillance.  
>The Jedi Knight was dressed in an elegant black suit, smiling as the Sith Lord settled her cloak over her shoulders, to ward off the cool temperatures of a Coruscant morning.<p>

"It'll probably be a few days before I can get back again." Said Liatrix.

"I could…go with you." Scourge offered.

Liatrix beamed. "Somehow, I think you'd be bored. Leeha said she had something important to share with me."

"Perhaps one of her probe droids had a force vision." Scourge mocked.

Liatrix swatted him and giggled. "I know she's peculiar, but she might be on to something." She turned to face Lord Scourge, and set her hands over his chest. "When I get back, we need to plan our next move."

"I have my doubts that it will work."

"Each time, we're getting a bit closer. I'm not about to give up on us yet." Said Liatrix. She reached up, and toyed with one of his tendril rings.

"Your persistence is your most admirable quality." Scourge gazed down at the diminutive Jedi with blazing scarlet eyes.

"My persistence?" The Jedi's eyebrow quirked up playfully.

"And the way the light caught your eyes in that first vision I had of you." Said Scourge.

The rosy hue of her cheeks deepened. "I wish I didn't have to go."

Lord Scourge clasped her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up. "Say the word, and we will vanish like smoke, and claim the life we desire."

"I wish it were that simple."

"It could be." Lord Scourge leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Liatrix's eyes fluttered to a close, as she basked in his tenderness.

He pulled back after a moment, jaw clenched, as if he were fighting intense pain.

"I'd give anything to give back what the Emperor took from you…from us." Liatrix murmured.

"I know. But know this, my Jedi, even if I can never claim you, touch you, or taste you, simply being with you, is enough." Scourge rolled his thumb over her chin. "You should go."

Liatrix nodded, and made her way to the elevator, their gazes still locked, even as the elevator doors came together.

Certain she could no longer hear him, Scourge threw his head back and roared. He lurched forward, steadying himself with a table. The Sith Lord's eyes teared up, and sweat dotted his face. After a series of ragged breaths, Lord Scourge sank into the chesterfield, and wiped his face with a black kerchief. He shuddered again and again, before he managed to quell the pain that racked through him.

Balkar's brows met. Physical contact with the Jedi knight, left the Sith in agony. He tugged on his boots and snatched up his leather jacket, before jogging toward the airlock elevator to continue his tail on the Jedi Master.

Master Liatrix navigated the morning rush with ease, drifting in and out of the throng of pedestrians on their way to work. She paused to window shop several times along the way. Balkar made a mental note of each display she'd stopped at, and tried to guess, what it was in each window, that had caught her eye. He liked to think he could guess at a woman's personality, just by the jewellery that attracted her. Aureum cuff bracelets suggested a submissive woman…piercings anywhere suggested a dominant and controlling woman. Women with ankle and waist chains were flirty extroverts. He liked to guess, it was a game. Sometimes he was right, and sometimes he was surprised.

A necklace with scarlet tear shaped gems set in platenite caught his eye, and for just a moment, he imagined the Jedi wearing it…and nothing else. Complicated jewellery, for a complicated woman. The idea amused him, as he continued trailing Master Liatrix.

The Jedi turned the corner, and made her way toward Lemmy's, a small but well known Coruscant eatery, that claimed to be home to the best cup of Jawa Juice on the planet. Liatrix was about to go inside, when a young female Nautolan stood and waved frantically from a corner table in the outdoor section. "Over here. Liatrix!"

The two women embraced each other in greeting, and then sat down at the corner table, the Nautolan had reserved for them.

"Leeha, it's so good to see you again."

"I've missed you so much. You're nearly impossible to get a hold of these days." Said Leeha.

Liatrix nodded. "You know how it is…but I'm glad we finally get to catch up."

"Me too. It's been so long since everything that happened. I've missed you." Said Leeha Narezz.

"I missed you too."

Balkar sat at a table near the entrance with a copy of the morning paper, just far enough away, so as not to draw attention, but still close enough, to eavesdrop. The women reminisced about their past exploits, and a trio of droids called the Meedees. A serving droid took their food order, and brought them mugs of steaming Jawa juice while they waited.

"By the way, how is Jomar doing?" Said Liatrix.

"Great." Leeha beamed. "In fact, we're getting married next month, before he starts his new job on Ralltiir."

"I'm so happy for you. Congratulations. I wish you both all the best." Said Liatrix.

"We have you to thank. You kept our secret from The Order. Without your understanding, they would have parted us, and we would have been miserable."

"I refuse to accept that love is the path to the dark side." Liatrix took a sip from her cup. "So what will Jomar be doing?"

"Infiltration. He's always had a knack for it."

"Not an easy life, for either of you." Liatrix shifted in her chair, an unsettling haze shadowing her thoughts. She glanced about the cafe—a handsome man reading a paper a few tables over, a couple making their way inside the building, a pair of serving droids rolling down the aisle, dirty cups clanking and rattling on their trays. The morning air was a mix of exhaust from the rush hour traffic, jawa juice, and the flowers from the stand across the street. Nothing seemed amiss, but something wasn't right. Leeha didn't seem to notice.

"No, but it's one that we've chosen. I'll continue my work with the Meedees of course, help where I can…Anyways, on to the reason why I asked you here. I'd like you to be my matron of honour." Said Leeha.

"Oh Leeha! I'd be honoured." Said Liatrix. Her napkin slipped from her lap, and she bent to pick it up. Something sharp burned a trail across over her shoulder, slicing her clothes and her flesh. Leeha cried out, and collapsed over the table with a thud. Jawa juice mingled with the growing pool of the Nautolan's blood.

"Leeha!" Liatrix eased her friend to the floor, and pushed over the metal table on its side for cover. Her shoulder stung and burned as she ignited her lightsaber.

Another shot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off Liatrix's lightsaber. The café's bright yellow and white striped awnings kept her from seeing the neighboring building's rooftops. The customers inside Lemmy's screamed and retreated from their window seat booths.

For a moment time seemed to stop to a crawl, and then suddenly jerked into high speed. Liatrix caught sight of the handsome man from the corner of her eye. Instead of running for cover, he was urging people to get inside, or get down, blaster drawn, as he moved toward Liatrix.

"Oh hell." Balkar hissed. He pulled his blaster, and moved half crouched to the back corner. He tugged the collar of his leather jacket and barked into his hidden comlink. "I need a medivac dispatched ASAP to Lemmy's at these co-ordinates…I have one Nautolan female down—chest wound, and another female injured. I need a perimeter, and a team scouring the rooftops. Yeah, it was a sniper. Can't have gotten far. Balkar out."

"Leeha…hang on, it's going to be okay. I'm right here, stay with me." The Jedi knight murmured. The dark stain spreading over Leeha's tunic made it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the bullet had penetrated. Leeha blinked her inner lids slowly, her black eyes paling to a pearly haze. Liatrix prayed the round hadn't hit one of Leeha's hearts.

"Jomar…get Jomar." She managed.

"Don't talk. Save your strength. I'll get him."

"Agent Jonas Balkar, SIS. Medivac is on the way." He scanned the area, careful to keep low. The teams were already arriving on the site, driving back curious onlookers.

"We have to keep air out of her chest…if her lungs collapse…we'll lose her." Said Liatrix. She frowned, scanning for something non porous to seal the wound with. I need plastite and some adhesive..." Liatrix drew a deep breath, as she tried to remember the lessons Doc insisted on teaching her. Someone dropped a first aid kit beside her. She glanced up at the astromech serving droid that had taken their orders earlier. "Thanks."

Liatrix cut a square of plastite and positioned it over Leeha's chest…fastening it with medical tape. Throwing off her cloak, she covered Leeha. "Here they come now. You'll be just fine. The doctors will take good care of you, don't you worry." She turned to the attendants. "Call Jomar Chul. He's her next of kin. She asked for him."

"Will do, Master Jedi. Operators are on it now."

The Medivac shuttle landed next to the café, kicking up papers, leaves and dust. Within moments they had Leeha on a stretcher and on the shuttle.

"You knew something was going to happen didn't you." Said Liatrix.

Balkar shook his head. "No. Not a clue."

"We need to find who did this." Liatrix's gaze met Balkar's. "They might still be in the area."

"Already on it. What we need now, is to get you out of here. You're hurt." Said Balkar. A short distance away, an unmarked shuttle was on standby.

"It's not bad." Liatrix countered. "Don't worry. We need to track the assassin."

"I do worry about you." He murmured, thick brows knitted together. There was a note of tenderness to his voice Liatrix couldn't account for. He pulled off his jacket and set it over her shoulders. Still warm, it smelled like spiced wine and Hutt cigars.

The Jedi stared at the SIS Agent. There was a peculiar familiarity in his demeanor, an intimacy, she couldn't account for.  
>He cleared his throat. "I worry, because I think that round was meant for you, Liatrix." Balkar extended an upturned hand to her.<br>Liatrix narrowed her eyes, and cocked her head. A moment passed, before she reluctantly accepted his hand. Once on board the shuttle, Balkar barked orders to the pilot, and then slid in next to Liatrix. He leaned over, buckling her in, like she was a small child.  
>"You're safe now." Said Balkar.<p>

"I'm never safe, Agent." Said the Jedi.

((to be continued…))


	3. Chapter 3

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part Three)**

Lord Scourge knelt before the pyre in his meditation chamber. The droning song of Coruscant's traffic had faded long ago, replaced by the roar of the growing fire. Fire had always fascinated him—the complex beauty of it, with its roiling passion and insatiable appetite.

Like many children, his first experience with fire was a burn. He was only five or six years old then, but the memory was one that remained vibrant throughout his life. He remembered stalking a parade of shiny red ants, each the size of his baby finger. Fascinated, he followed the insects as they marched across the family's yard. Each ant carried a large crumb or leaf on its back. The ants disappeared into a crack along the wall that fenced the property.

With the parade gone, Scourge prowled the yard, searching for something else to entertain him. His belly rumbled and his attention turned to the bulbous cooking pot his mother had set over the fire. He watched the flames curve around the base, blackening the metal. The fire seemed to beckon to him with curling golden fingers.

Across the yard, his mother drew water from the well, her back to him. He gravitated toward the fire with the slow certainty of a ship caught in a tractor beam. The shimmering air surrounding the fire warmed him. The smell of whatever his mother was boiling, teased another growl from his stomach.

Mesmerized by the undulating spears, he reached out, hoping to catch one. Scourge cried out. His mother appeared at his side. She seized his arm and plunged his hand into the pail of cold well water she carried. The large spongy blisters on his palm turned a milky white as his skin cooled.

Lord Scourge focussed on the memory of that first pain, and then the comfort of the water and soft wrappings his mother applied to protect his hand. He could almost remember her voice.

"My son, when we die, our souls become fire. Like us, the fire has many aspects. It can be used to warm a home, or cook a meal, but it can also destroy and inflict great pain."

Her voice was a soothing balm, punctuated by the crackle of the fire. He watched her, with large red eyes.

"Fire is divinity, and must never be touched." She continued. "It's forbidden. The penalty for this, is to bear its mark on your flesh forever. Do you understand my little one?"

"Yes Mama."

"Good. The sting will fade soon enough. Try not to think on it." She patted his hip, and urged him to scurry off.

Next Lord Scourge remembered what followed her tender lesson. His father tore the wrappings from his hand, and scolded his mother for coddling him.

"The Sith fight pain, with pain." He growled. "You will learn. Put your hand out."

Scourge's hand shook, as he stuck it out. He looked up at his father with watery fearful eyes.

"Whimpering will make it worse." His father warned.

The bantha leather strap cut across Scourge's hand, effectively slicing open the blisters that dotted his palm. To his credit he did not cry and stood as still as a statue.

After the fourth strike, an odd sensation took hold. His skin prickled. Like the heat from the fire, it spread from the center of his hand to his fingers, and then to his wrist. He forced all of his awareness on the spiny sensation that brought the blessed numbness. All perception vanished—no feeling or sound. Colour, scent and taste, were gone. The numbness took it all away.

Lord Scourge had never been certain, how long his father intended to continue the lashing. His father raised the strap to strike at least once more, and then teetered and fell over, face first into the dirt. Scourge heard the growl of a lightsaber, and then smelled burnt flesh. His mother, pierced his father's torso with his own lightsaber—once for every strike, Scourge had endured. The red blade hissed, as it retracted into its hilt. His mother tucked the hilt under his father's unmoving hand.

Scourge didn't move or dare to breathe. His insides shook so much, he thought he'd fall over onto his father's body. His mother lifted him, and carried him on her hip, into the house. She cleaned and bound his hand once more, and then held him in silence for a time. Soon after, they left that house, and went to live with his grandparents. He could never look at fire again, without remembering that day. So much upheaval, all because he wanted to hold onto something untouchable.

His agony waned with the fire, and brought him back to the present. With the numbness, came a semblance of peace that quelled the arousal his Jedi had awakened.

How like the fire she was—dazzling, warm and nurturing, but to touch her, wracked his body with the worst agony imaginable. He wondered how long either of them would last before pent up longing consumed them.

Even though she had only been away for a short time, he missed her keenly. Reaching across the Force he sought her connection. Through the Force he could touch her, with no pain. He allowed his mind to wander, prowling her body's landscape, with all its depths and peaks, until he was overcome with the sad fear, that this was all he would ever be capable of.

Then something peculiar happened. A seductive vision came to him…the Jedi splayed before him on a dark cloud, wearing only a necklace he had never seen before. He drew a deep breath, letting the vision unfurl. The sparkling red stones about her throat became droplets of blood that formed a river over her collar bone to her shoulder, marring the creamy pale flesh. The dark clouds thinned, revealing a vibrant world around her. An inky swathe of fear, pain and hatred curled over her wrists and ankles to bind her. Through these dark tendrils, she drew on all the life around her, reducing the world to an empty husk. Whispers sounded from the darkness.

_~Walk the path of the Vitiate~_

He recognized the energy. It was one he had hoped would stay gone forever.

Scourge sensed a swell of fear and panic swirling around Liatrix. Something was terribly wrong. His eyes snapped open, and with a smooth motion, he unfurled to stand at his full height. The last of the meditation fire had faded to embers. He crossed the chamber, and snatched up his holocom. Tapping in the Jedi's frequency, he paced as he awaited an answer.

His ire grew as each series of beeps asserted that the call was going unanswered. After the sing-song of beeps were firmly ingrained in his mind, he slapped the holocom against the table.

_Why wasn't she answering?_

He stalked out of the condominium. Lines of traffic buzzed above him like the parade of red ants from his childhood. He drew up the hood of his cloak and took to the streets. He had to find her.

After a short flight, Jonas Balkar's unmarked SIS shuttle dipped and landed in an underground hanger. Agent Balkar unbuckled his seatbelt and reached over to help Liatrix with hers, while the pilot secured the hanger.

"I'm fine agent. Believe it or not I can actually manage a seat belt." Said Liatrix.

"Just trying to keep chivalry alive."

"You're one of a dying breed, Agent, but I promise you, I can manage." The Jedi stood, and started down the narrow aisle.

"Jonas. Please."

"All right…Jonas. Do you mind telling me where we are?"

"A secure location. No one will find us here."

Liatrix narrowed her eyes.

"All right. It's my place, but what I said is true enough. We can hole up here, until we figure out our next steps."

"I _know_ what our next steps are. I can't stay here Agent…sorry, Jonas."

"Let's get some kolto for that shoulder. I know it's gotta hurt. You've lost blood. Trust me, all right?"

"I can't."

"Why not?" Balkar's brows pinched together and he set his hands on his hips.

"Because you're keeping things from me. I have questions." Said Liatrix.

"Keeping things from people is sorta what I do…but I'll make an exception for you. Shoot."

"You said you didn't know any of this would happen. How did you know my name? I know we've never met. And, you just happened to be right there, when a shooting takes place?"

"You're the Hero of Tython, and what you did to the Sith Emperor…" Balkar whistled low. "That makes you famous."

"Nice try, but The Jedi Council never released my identity, or that of my team. Everything that happened on Dromund Kaas is strictly classified."

"Not to me."

Liatrix sighed, and followed him through the narrow twisting passages of the stronghold, until they stopped at a doorway.

"Then why did you think the round was meant for me, instead of my friend?"

"The trajectory. If you hadn't bent over to pick up your napkin, you would be dead now." Said Balkar.

"Something doesn't add up. You noticed that I dropped my napkin? Really?"

"Is that so hard to believe? You're a beautiful woman."

A rosy hue coloured the Jedi's cheeks. "Well, thank you, but you'll have to forgive me, if I don't quite believe you."

"It's the truth. I was sitting there, really hoping your friend would get called away, so I could say hello." Said Balkar.

Balkar pushed open the heavy metal door, to reveal a small simply furnished apartment. An oversized monitor, computer systems, and an enormous chesterfield dominated the main room.

"I'd give you a tour, but this is pretty much it. Refresher is through there. Towels are in the locker. I reckon you'll want to clean up a bit."

Liatrix nodded. The metallic scent of blood crawled up her nose, and her hands were sticky and caked with dry blood.

"Thanks. I think I just might take you up on that, but I'd like to make a call first, there's someone I really need to talk to."

"Sure thing. I'll get the med kit." Said Jonas. He ducked out of the main room, into what Liatrix guessed must be his bedroom.

Liatrix patted down her pockets and frowned.

Jonas emerged from the back room, medkit in hand, and arched a brow. "What's the matter?"

"I must have lost my holo in the scuffle."

"It's probably best to stay off the airwaves for a little while anyway, in case someone is monitoring you. I'll set up a secure line, after we get you looked after."

"My whole life is in that stupid holo." Liatrix grumbled.

"Can I get you a drink? Something to eat?"

"Maybe some tea, if you have it." Said Liatrix.

"Sure."

"I guess I'll go…clean up." Liatrix pointed a thumb back at the room that housed the refresher.

"I'll be right here waiting for you."

When the sound of rushing water stopped, Balkar snatched up a clean tshirt, and tracksuit pants from his laundry. He tapped at the door, and leaned in close. "I have a change of clothes for you. I'll just set them inside the door, if you're decent."

"That's fine. Thank you." Liatrix called back.

A cloud of steam escaped through the crack in the door, as he placed the clothing on the counter. He caught a glimpse of the Jedi's body, moving behind the refresher's frosted glass. The temptation to linger was strong, but he thought better of it, and backed out, shutting the door tight. He took a deep breath, and set about finding something, that would pass for tea in his apartment.

Reaching to the very back of his cupboards, he found some mint tea that one of his ex-girlfriends had left behind. He sniffed at the box, and decided it passed inspection.

The Jedi emerged from the refresher, just as he set down the mugs of mint tea, and a plate of sweet ration bars.

"I have to apologize, I wasn't expecting company. Cupboards were a bit bare."

"It looks lovely. It's very thoughtful of you." Said Liatrix.

She looked a bit lost in his clothing. She had rolled up the tracksuit pants to keep from dragging, and his shirt hung almost to her knees. A far cry from the elegant Jedi in the power suit he'd spied on that morning. Right now, she was adorable.

"Jonas?" Liatrix tilted her head. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, fine. Just a little distracted. Here's your tea. If you have a seat, I can check your wound."

She nodded and sat still as he swabbed her shoulder with kolto, and pasted a large thick bandage over it.

"_You_ are very lucky." Said Jonas.

"I feel guilty. Poor Leeha…I don't even know if…she's alive. I'd never seen her so happy…" Her lips pinched together.

"Have your tea. Relax. I'll make a call."

After a moment with his computer, Balkar took up his holo. "This is SIS Agent Jonas Balkar, I need an update on the condition of the shooting victim who was brought in this morning a Leeha…um…"

"Narezz." Liatrix chimed in.

"Yes, Narezz." He glanced over at Liatrix and mouthed his thanks. "All right, I'll hold."

Several moments passed, and then a familiar form appeared on the holo. "I'm Dr. Kimble…Doc. What can I do you for Agent?"

Liatrix sat up straighter and stared at the holo. She felt the blood drain from her face.

"I understand you're the one who treated Leeha Narezz?" Said Balkar.

"That's right, just out of surgery now. She's being taken to critical care, but I'd say the prognosis looks good. There's another Jedi with her. Jomar…and a bunch of guards too."

"That's good news. Glad to hear he made it over." Said Balkar.

"Listen Agent, this might be an odd question, but do you have any idea, if Master Liatrix is all right? Leeha was asking about her, before she went under."

"Let me talk to him." Liatrix shot up from the chesterfield. Her shoulder pained her and she winced.

Balkar passed the holo over.

"Hey gorgeous! You had ol' Doc pretty worried."

"I wanted to call before, but I lost my holo in the scuffle. I'm all right, you don't need to worry."

"You know I do. Were you hurt? What are you wearing? I think I need to give you a physical. Make sure everything is where it should be."

Liatrix blushed and averted her gaze. "Just a graze, really nothing at all."

"I didn't think you'd be back from Tython until the weekend. Your conference end early?"

"Uh, yes, as a matter of fact. Then Leeha got in touch, and we decided to meet up…then this happened."

"I've missed you. I get off in about an hour."

"About that…I don't know when I'll be able to get there. I'm under some sort of protective custody. We need to find the shooter, plan next steps."

"Aw damn. I really wanted to see you."

"I'll get there as soon as I can. Promise."

"Why do you think this happened? People don't tend to get shot at for no reason." Said Doc.

"It's unclear. We don't know enough yet. I have to go."

"Trix baby? Love you."

Liatrix turned her back to Balkar. "Love you too. Gotta run lover." She clipped off the holo, and turned around slowly.

Balkar leaned back in the chair across from the chesterfield, with his hands clasped behind his head, and his legs crossed at the ankles. Liatrix knew he'd heard everything, just from the crooked smile on his face.

"There's someone else I need to call." Said Liatrix.

"Go right on ahead." Balkar drawled.

Liatrix frowned, and crossed the room to put as much distance between her and the Agent as possible. She tapped in a frequency, and waited.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to contact you for hours. I must speak to you at once."

Balkar immediately recognized the soft spoken, yet irritated voice of Lord Scourge.

"Leeha was shot. The SIS think someone was trying to kill me. I wanted to call before, but we only just arrived at the secure location."

"Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, I had a vision. I've been out looking for you."

"I'm not, it was just a graze across my shoulder. I'll live." Said Liatrix.

"And your friend?"

"She's in critical care, but she's alive. Doc performed the surgery on her. He was surprised to see me back from the conference all ready."

"You've seen him." Scourge said flatly.

"No, just on the holo, the SIS Agent called the hospital for me."

An audible sigh sounded over the holo.

"I told him, I didn't know when I'll be able to get back, I'm in protective custody for now."

"Stay there if you must. We do need to speak…and it's not something I care to discuss over the holo." Said Scourge.

"I'll do everything I can. I don't like this any more than you do."

"You're not alone." Said Scourge.

"No."

"Understood." Said Scourge.

Liatrix clipped off the holo. Her shoulders drooped, and her brows dipped sullenly.

"Sounds like you need a break. I never thought Jedi's lives were that complicated." Said Balkar.

"Obviously you heard all that." Said Liatrix. She passed the holo back to him, and sank back into the chesterfield.

Balkar smiled slightly. She looked so comfortable in his clothing, one leg tucked up under herself on the chesterfield, and hugging a cushion.

"I'm a good listener…and we have some time to kill."

"We really need to get to work." Said Liatrix.

"I've got a team scouring the site, they're doing everything possible at this point. For right now, you need to stay safe, and rest. You're staying the night. That's an order."

"I outrank you." Said Liatrix.

"Are you really going to argue with me?"

Liatrix sighed. "No."

"Like I said, I'm a pretty good listener." Said Balkar.

((to be continued…))


	4. Chapter 4

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part Four)**

When the Jedi Master didn't answer, Jonas crossed the room and tapped a sequence of keys on his computer terminal. A keyboard ballad lilted through the apartment like a loving caress. Jonas knew that music worked wonders on getting women to loosen up and speak more freely. A couple of bottles of wine couldn't hurt either, but he figured that would be too obvious. Hoping she wouldn't suspect his motives at his choice of music, he puttered around, idly straitening up the messier areas of the apartment.

Her gaze was fixed on one of his paintings—a pretty and vibrant landscape of a beach. The longing in her eyes suggested that she wished she was there, and probably with someone. He didn't have to guess who, but was having trouble imagining the Sith Lord in swim trunks.

"Judging from those two calls, I'd say they're pretty important to you—Doc and Lord Scourge."

His voice broke whatever spell the painting had over her, and her dark blue eyes fixed on him.

"Attachment is forbidden to a Jedi." She murmured.

"But that hasn't stopped you, has it." He sat down at the opposite end of the couch, and put his feet up on the small cafe table.

Her gaze didn't waver, and had a note of sadness to it. It also looked like she was trying to decide whether or not she could, or should, trust him.

"No. I suppose it hasn't. That's just the programmed answer we all say." She dropped her gaze and pinched at the corner of the cushion on her lap. "We say it over and over, like that's going to make it true."

"So what's the story there…if you don't mind me asking." Said Balkar.

"The story is, that over the years, I've become a professional liar. I should sign up for the SIS." She said with a slight smirk, which quickly faded into melancholy again.

"Cute." Jonas chuckled. Following her lead, his amusement turned serious. He said nothing, hoping that the silence would make her feel awkward enough to fill it.

"Well, I suppose it all started on Balmorra, when I had to—no. No, it goes back further than that, the beginning of it. Back at the Academy on Tython, when I was a Padawan, I was put in the position of spying on a couple of my classmates. Their masters suspected them of having a secret romantic attachment. I talked to them, and sure enough, it was true. Even though I didn't like the girl…I decided to keep their secret. I've never believed that love or attachment is the path to the dark side. I kept that belief a secret, because I knew I wouldn't advance, if I didn't. I've been lying for years. I kept Leeha and Jomar's relationship a secret too. Love isn't evil."

"You sound like you have doubts." Said Balkar.

Liatrix sighed. "Sometimes, when I think about everything that's happened. Maybe love isn't evil, but what you're willing to do for it, can be."

"You mentioned Balmorra…what happened there?"

"It's where I met Doc." She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with fondness. "I have to admit, I fell pretty easily to his charms. I wasn't used to that kind of attention from a man, and I have to say I liked it." She giggled. "My apprentice, Kira, having spent a lot of time on Nar Shadaa was used to men behaving that way. She thought he was sleazy, and reminded us every moment of that fact."

Balkar turned to face her better, and nodded, silently urging her to continue.

"Long story short, we were in the thick of the war, and it felt like all of the Council's hopes were pinned on me. I went day to day, never knowing if I would wake up tomorrow. I started thinking, that, if I was going to die, I wanted to live before I did. I wanted to experience everything. So, I let myself fall in love with Doc, and eventually we got married. If anyone knows how to live, it's Doc. He knows all the best places to go, has connections everywhere…and he spoiled me. I was happy."

"Was? But you're not anymore?" Balkar urged.

She shook her head and looked down. "Because I've realized that I love someone else more. He's my world, and I would do anything for him."

"Lord Scourge?"

The Jedi nodded and met his gaze.

"I sense there's a problem." Said Balkar.

"You could say that. Lord Scourge is immortal. He's over three centuries old. The Emperor did some sort of alchemy on him…he's immortal, but he can't feel _anything_. His senses are just memories now. I do nothing but hurt him and that's the last thing I want to do."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?"

"If there is, I don't know what. I've been searching for ways. I thought I'd found a solution, but it was a lie, made up by the Emperor." She shook her head. "I almost died trying to get this holocron on Korriban. If it wasn't for Scourge and Doc and the rest of my team, I'd be dead. I did things I'm not proud of. I did it all for him…for us."

"What sort of things?" Said Balkar.

"It's complicated. I risked a mission The Council gave me, in order to lure in a Sith apprentice to help me get on Korriban and find what I needed."

"Must've been some payoff you promised."

Liatrix nodded. "But I never had any intention of keeping that promise. In fact…" She drew a deep breath. "I knew to get what I needed, there would have to be a sacrifice."

Balkar rubbed at his jaw, his gaze riveted on the Jedi. A thread was beginning to form in his mind, linking all of the information he'd assembled in his dossier about her for the Grand Master of the Jedi Council. The picture was becoming clearer.

"I killed the Sith. I failed to get the holocron. I almost died, and I convinced my crew to cover it up, and I'm lying to my husband, because I don't want to hurt him either."

Balkar rubbed at his forehead. "Why do I have the feeling that not everyone knows the whole story?"

"That's because only one other person knows it all. Two now, I suppose." She looked at him meaningfully. "You're a damn good spy. You got me to confess to my crimes, without lifting a finger."

Balkar drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. With this admission, she would be stripped of her title and her position, and kicked from the order. He closed his eyes for a moment and steepled his hands against his face. The Grand Master is expecting a report any day now.

"Oh hell. That's quite a confession." He sighed.

"I suppose it's a good thing you're not spying on me then. You're very easy to talk to. Too easy. I can see that you'd have a real knack for being an agent." Said Liatrix.

He nodded and smiled, his lips tight.

"I see your opinion of me has changed. I'm not who you thought I was, am I." Said Liatrix.

"Just processing it all. Hell of a thing you've told me." Balkar scooted closer to her, and took her hand in his, and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you did though." He held her hand and looked over at her. He wanted to kiss her. He didn't dare.

Her eyes were glossy with burgeoning tears. She met his gaze, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. "I've made a real mess of things. I don't even know how to fix it anymore. I'm tired of having to fix things." Her voice quavered.

He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Hey now, it's okay. Shhhh." He drew her close and held her. She was warm and soft, and smelled like sweet Corellian apples. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. He caressed the back of her head, her hair silky as it skimmed under his fingers.

His brows furrowed, as a small voice in his mind reprimanded him.

_Jonas…what the hell are you doing? She's just admitted to murder and breaking every Jedi rule going, and you're sniffing her hair? Snap. Out. Of. It. Think man. Think._

She sobbed for a long time before finally pulling away. "I'm sorry Jonas. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't…I shouldn't have done this." Dabbing at her eyes, she drew a deep staggered breath and sat up straighter. "There is no emotion…there is peace…" When her affirmation rang hollow, she buried her face in her hands, and started to sob anew.

Gently, he reached out and drew her hands away from her face and tilted his head, to peek at her.

"I don't believe it anymore. There's only pain." She sniffled.

He pulled a soft kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her cheek, before pressing the fabric square in her hand.

"Sounds to me, like you've been holding all this inside for, who knows how long. It's not like the Jedi equip you to handle emotions, they just teach you to repress and ignore them. You can only do that for so long, before it eats you alive." Said Balkar.

Her lower lip quivered, and she nodded. He reached out, and caressed the pouty swell of her lower lip with his thumb.

"Everything is going to be okay." He whispered.

She dabbed at her face and swallowed hard. "I'm going to splash some water on my face, if that's all right."

"Of course it is sweetheart. I'll get us some more of that tea. We both seem to have survived it, and then I'll order something for dinner from the kitchens. Sound good?" He clasped the tip of her chin and grinned lopsidedly.

"It means a lot to me…that you listened…that you didn't judge me."

"Told you I'm a good listener. Go on, get washed up. I'll have that tea in a jiff."

She smiled through her tears, and scurried off into the refresher.

He ordered dinner, wine and desserts from the SIS complex's kitchens. He was also plenty firm with them, that this dinner had to be perfect.

_You're falling for her. This won't end well._

He mentally swatted away the small voice like a gnat, and set about brewing more of the stale mint tea.

Liatrix emerged from the refresher room, rubbing at her arms, goose pimples rashing her skin.

"It gets chilly in here at night…let me start a fire." Said Balkar. He punched in a code on his console, and within seconds a roaring fire filled the granite hearth. Balkar found a throw blanket and arranged it over her shoulders and nestled the cup of tea in her hands.

"Better?"

"Much. Thanks." Said Liatrix.

After dinner, they sat on the floor in front of the flames, enjoying slices of Alderaanian Chocolate Ribbon Cake and wine.

"I just realized, that you know all my secrets, and I know nothing about you. So…is there anyone special, Jonas?" Liatrix took a sip of her wine.

"No." He shook his head. "There was someone, a long time ago, but work carried us in different directions. And then she was killed in action. We never really did anything about it, and then it was too late."

"I'm sorry. I never meant to bring up anything unpleasant."

"No, it's fine. It was a long time ago, and I have good memories. My line of work, typically isn't conducive to having anything long term."

"It sounds like a pretty empty existence." Said Liatrix.

"Maybe that's what we have in common. The things we have to do, give us too little in return." Said Jonas.

"Have you ever thought about getting reassigned? Do something a little more…stable?"

"No. No one ever leaves the SIS…not really. It's like the Huttese Mafia…you're in for life. What about you? Have you thought about leaving The Order?"

"I'd be lying if I said no. I've probably thought about it more than I should."

"So why don't you?"

"To do what? I may not agree with everything I've been taught, but it does give me a purpose. The Republic needs me. I can't just walk away from that."

"I get it. We're both creatures trapped by duty." He held out his wine glass, and tapped it against hers, the clink between them speaking the sadness of their toast.

"It's been a long stressful day…" She straightened her blanket, and fluffed a pillow on the couch.

"Oh no, you're not sleeping out here. Take the bed. I insist." Said Balkar.

Liatrix shook her head. "This is fine."

"I'm not going to take no for an answer, Master Jedi. Come on, I'll walk you."

"I suppose I can't argue with that."

Balkar draped his arm over her shoulder, and guided her toward his room. He couldn't help but notice how nicely she fit against him as they moved. He wanted to test that fit, with several other positions—under, over, sideways, standing against a wall…

"Agent you're blushing." Said Liatrix.

"The wine does that to me." He chuckled.

The Jedi lifted a brow and gave him a matter-of-fact stare.

"You don't actually expect me to admit to what was going through my mind just now." Said Balkar.

"I think I have an idea. I recognize that impish glint." She slipped into the room and took a quick look around. It was definitely a single man's bedroom. Conveniently located mood lighting, music player, a small bar, and a large bed, dressed in black shimmersilk. The room was as decadent as any she'd seen in the hotels she'd stayed in with Doc.

Balkar chuckled. "I see there is no keeping anything from you."

"Good night Agent." Said Liatrix.

He was about to turn away to leave, when the impulse seized him. He whirled about, and pulled her against him. His mouth crushed against hers, and he could taste the sweetness of wine and chocolate between them. She returned his kiss, her lips soft and pliant, and then her body stiffened. She pulled away, her eyes wide, and lips still parted. Her lower lip quivered as if she wanted to speak, but no words came.

"I'm not going to apologize. I've been wanting to do that ever since I laid eyes on you." Said Balkar.

He took a deep breath, and stalked out of the room, the doors sliding closed behind him.

He felt hot. He continued through the sitting room, straight out to the small balcony. The cold night air pressed against his face. He took a deep breath and held it, his gaze fixing on the cityscape before him. He gripped the railing tight and leaned forward.

_Aw hell Jonas. You idiot._

He scowled at the small voice in his head and brought the heel of his palm down hard against the railing. He could feel the metal vibrations stir against his skin. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

_You've gone and done it now…What am I gonna do? I must be out of my mind._

He closed his eyes, and hung his head. He didn't sense her coming up behind him.

"You're going to get a chill if you stay out here like this." Liatrix settled the blanket over his shoulders and tilted her head to peek up at his expression.

"Come inside. Lie down next to me, and we'll just talk, until we fall asleep. We have work to do tomorrow." She urged.

He nodded sheepishly and followed her inside.

_Yup, he was in trouble._

Far across the city, Lord Scourge gritted his teeth, and ignited his lightsaber. "You fools." He hissed.

((to be continued))


	5. Chapter 5

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part Five)**

_Mornings always come too soon. _

That was true most days, but especially this one.

Balkar had a good reason to want to stay in bed, and that reason, was the lithe female form asleep next to him. Balkar propped himself up on his elbow and took her in—tousled brown hair grazing her cheek, pouty rose coloured lips, and a sleek coltish leg poking out from under the sheets.

He felt his arousal stir. He leaned in and kissed the exposed curve of her shoulder. A puckish grin formed on his lips.

_The Jedi sleeps like the dead._

The movement under her eyelids suggested she was dreaming. He hoped it was about him. Her fingers flexed involuntarily around the corner of her pillow and he didn't have the heart to wake her.

He rolled out of bed and tugged on a shirt. Padding out to the main room, he roughed up the back of his hair and yawned. He winced at the brightness of the morning and rubbed his eyes as he checked the time. It was earlier than he thought. He could take his time in the refresher, and order in a special breakfast.

The hot water and steam loosened his muscles, and as always made him feel like a new man.

A half hour later, he was ready to take on the day, and he had a feeling it would be a good one. He ordered a sumptuous breakfast for two from the kitchen. While he waited for the service droid to deliver the food, he flicked through his holo messages and frowned. Satele Shan had already left two.

_The woman must never sleep. _

Balkar knew the time difference to Tython, only made it seem that way. He sighed and resigned himself to calling the Jedi Grand Master later. His lips pressed into a tight thin line. He still had no idea what he would tell her.

_The truth, Jonas…you tell her the truth. Sort of. Tell her whatever you want, you're a damn spy, remember?_

The door chime sounded, pulling him out of his head.

"Ah breakfast."

A silver protocol droid rolled in the trolley and made an elegant display of Balkar's tiny café table. Ivory table cloth, aureum trimmed china, and Alderaanian nectar served in crystal flutes. The droid set out the gleaming cutlery and then the finishing touch—a centerpiece of Coruscanti blood-roses. The aroma of the food and freshly brewed Jawa juice made Balkar's belly rumble.

"Is it your birthday today Agent Balkar?" The droid clipped in formal tones.

"No, but I have a special guest over."

"Oh, I_ see_. Well, I shall leave you to it. Enjoy your day sir."

"Thanks C2-U2."

He watched the droid patter out, and wondered if he imagined the innuendo in its voice. He grinned sheepishly at the thought, and shook his head.

_Time to wake up my Jedi. _

He plucked a bud from the vase and sniffed it on his way to the bedroom. The scent was intoxicating. Twirling the blood-rose by the stem, he stopped in the doorway. He expected she'd still be in bed, but it was empty.

"Liatrix?"

He poked his head into the refresher. Empty. He checked the balcony next, but knew he would have noticed her out there.

He found his leather jacket and his holocom missing. "Aw hell." He grumbled.

_What would have made her run off like that? _

There had been mornings he'd woken up next to someone else, and couldn't wait to make his get away, but this wasn't the case. This was different. He hoped.

She couldn't have gotten far. He tossed the rose aside, and dialed his personal holo-frequency from the secure line on his computer.

She wasn't answering.

Next, he tapped in a tracking code. All standard equipment issued by the SIS came with a built in tracking dot. A holomap of the city sprung up from the console. A red flashing spec tracked across the city marking her path. She was heading back to the condo. He left the map open on the terminal and jogged to the foyer.

He shrugged on his ankle length leather duster that he usually reserved for clubbing nights and headed for the garage.

He swung into the cockpit of his custom Desler Avenger and roared out of the garage into the onslaught of morning traffic. With the flip of a few switches, he transferred the computer tracking map to his dashboard display.

Darting and weaving through the traffic, he managed to gain an advantage over most of it. He glanced back in his rear view and caught sight of more than a few commuters flipping him off. An angry Dug rolled down his window and pulled up next to Balkar at the merging point.

"Sleemo." The Dug snarled, facial tendrils sputtering.

Balkar drew a deep breath and stepped on the accelerator, to pull up to the next tier of traffic, and then the next. Running a wide arc, he brought his speeder down on the tiny landing pad of the Jedi's pent-house condo. He glanced over at the moored freighter, where just yesterday he'd been holed up with his monitors and energy pudding wishing he could meet the Jedi.

How things changed in the span of a day. Jogging down the ramp to the balcony, his brows furrowed. Several planters on the balcony had been knocked over, some even sliced in half. The glass doors had been smashed and pried apart and blaster burns marred the walls.

Balkar cocked his head to listen. He heard voices downstairs. He drew his blaster and skulked down the curving stairway, sidestepping broken sculptures and fallen paintings.

The door at the bottom smoked and fizzled. Occasionally a blue spark would jet out of the hinge mechanism to land on a dead body jammed between the doors. Balkar guessed he was a freelance merc, judging by his armor. Seven more, just like him, haphazardly littered the main hall. The condo looked like it had been ravaged by a Tatooine sandstorm, except there was no sand.

Closer and closer he crept, careful to avoid the crumbs of broken glass strewn everywhere. He stopped just short of the bedroom the Jedi shared with Lord Scourge and peered around the door frame. The bed lay on its side, the dressers were splinters against the far wall. He swallowed hard, expecting the worst.

Suspended and splayed over one of the walls by his own weapons, a hulking male merc groaned and muttered. Balkar cringed. The man looked like a lobel about to be dissected.

Blood leaked out from under the merc's chest plate and the lumps and bruises on his scarred face, suggested he was lucky to even be alive.

"Lord Scourge. Where is he? What did you do to him? Who hired you?" Liatrix hissed.

"I'm not tellin' you nuthin' Jedi." The merc growled.

Balkar cocked his head for a better look.

Liatrix mashed the business end of her lightsaber hilt against the merc's crotch, her thumb twitchy to ignite the weapon.

"You might want to rethink that. You know, scum like you shouldn't breed." Liatrix growled.

"You're farking crazy. You're _no_ Jedi." The merc sputtered and coughed.

"Try me. Where did they take him?"

Liatrix drew back the lighsaber and ignited it. She plunged the tip just south of the merc's genitals, scorching the wall. The merc whimpered. A smelly dark trail leaked down the inseam of his trousers, and dribbled over his boots to the floor.

"You witch!"

"Next time I won't miss." The crimson blade retracted into the stylishly sculpted hilt with a deep growl.

"It was just a job. The boss is taking 'im to Darth Creant—" The merc's head lolled forward, a string of bloody drool hung from his lower lip. She reached out, placing two fingers over his carotid pulse. There wasn't one.

"Damn it." Liatrix hissed under her breath. She spun around and her awareness fixed on the doorway.

"Jonas…" Her expression softened.

"I think I'm a little turned on." Balkar drawled.

If she was amused she didn't let on, but he sensed she was glad to see him.

"Lord Scourge is gone. I don't know where they've taken him, or even how they could've managed it." Her brows quirked together miserably.

"Judging from the look of things, it must've taken an army. A well organised one at that." Balkar knelt and picked a few stony metal crumbs out of the carpet and rolled them between his fingers. "I think they've got him in carbonite for transport."

Liatrix ran her hand over her forehead. She'd lost the dainty hair chain she normally wore.

Balkar reached out and set his hand over her shoulder. "You shouldn't have run off."

"I had to. I had a dream," she began, "But I was too late."

Balkar drew her close and held her.

The elevator in the foyer groaned open. Liatrix pulled away. Their eyes met, and with a nod of agreement, they drew their weapons in unison and made for the entrance.

A golden protocol droid stepped out, metal fingers flying over a data pad as it tallied damage. Balkar exhaled heavily and lowered his blaster pistol.

"This isn't a good time." Liatrix snapped and re-sheathed her lightsaber.

"I am F8-D8, Homeowner Relations. There have been several complaints from the other occupants. I am here to inform you and Lord Scourge, that this is your third damage infraction this month. There will be a five hundred percent increase in your HOA fees, and housekeeping will no longer be responsible for damage caused by weapons, violence or mercenary incursion. This is your final warning. Have a nice day."

The droid backed up into the elevator, the doors sliding to a close with a labored groan.

Balkar sighed. "Go pack a bag. I'll get a team in here…clean this up. You're not rid of me yet."

"I have to get him back."

"And we will." Said Balkar.

After Liatrix disappeared into the bedroom, Balkar spoke into his wrist com. "Dispatch. Do you read…This is Balkar…I need an invasion response team at my co-ordinates. We've got at least nine confirmed dead, and I need this place scoured. We need ID's. And run Darth C-R-E-A-N-T…see what comes up. I'll get back to you when I know more."

"Roger that," a female voice crackled from the other end. "Oh, and agent...a Leeha Narezz called. She asked that you and the Master Jedi stop by Coruscant General."

"Will do. Balkar out."

Balkar ran his hand over his jaw and took a deep breath. For the first time in many years he felt conflicted. He considered what might happen, if Lord Scourge stayed lost. The idea had its appeal.

He drew a deep breath. He was bound by duty to search. The Sith lord was a citizen of the Republic now, and a decorated hero no less. As an agent, he had to see this through. He needed to get to the moored freighter to pick up the surveillance recordings from the stakeout.

_She can't know…she'd think it was all a lie._

His gaze shifted, and a plan began to form.

Liatrix emerged from the bedroom. She'd changed into a navy blue jumpsuit, and still wore Balkar's rugged jacket. She'd replaced the delicate hair chain she liked to wear with another, and tugged the strap of her pack up over her shoulder.

"All set?"

"Yes, I think so." She took a long look around as if saying good-bye.

"Here, let me take that for you. I brought my speeder. Come on." He hefted the strap over his left shoulder and escorted her out to the landing pad.

He swung the shiny red speeder into the skyway and showed off a little. He was also grateful that the morning rush hour had passed.

"Got a message from dispatch. Leeha wants to see us."

Liatrix glanced over at him, eyes wide. "I hope nothing is wrong. Did they say anything else?"

Balkar shook his head. "Figured we go there first. I've got some work I have to run in. I might do that while you visit."

"That's fine." Her brows pinched together, as she turned her attention to the passenger side window. She said nothing for the rest of the trip, and Balkar knew her thoughts were far away. He replayed the scene at the condo over and over in his mind. He dwelled on the red lightsaber, the savagery of the interrogation, and the merc's words: "You're no Jedi."

He couldn't decide which was worse. The merc's implication, or the fact she didn't deny it. He glanced over at her, his gaze sweeping over her profile. She didn't seem to notice. He felt his pulse quicken. He shifted his attention back to the skyway.

The previous evening invaded his mind in flashes and he wondered if he was seeing only what he wanted to see.

"Jonas?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry, about everything. I've caused you nothing but trouble."

"Hey, if it weren't for you, I'd be stuck somewhere writing reports."

She smiled demurely and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest.

"Are you okay?" Said Jonas.

"I haven't felt okay in a long time."

"I'd like to change that." He murmured, as he pulled the speeder into the hospital parking lot. "But it's only something you can do. You need to figure out what makes you happy and what doesn't."

"You're absolutely right. It's time I took back control of my own life."

They passed a row of expensive luxury speeders, the placard over the last space nearest the door read "Dr. A. Kimble" and was home to a gun-metal grey Czerka luxury cruiser.

"Looks like your husband is here…"

She averted her gaze and nodded. "Good. I need to talk to him."

((To be continued…please vote if you enjoyed it. Thanks.))


	6. Chapter 6

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 6)**

Doc tapped his datapad, and passed it to the nurse at the station. "Get Webster prepped for the abdominal endoscopy and the gal in 6G, up her drip by two units. Got it?"

"Sure thing Doc."

"Now scoot. Ol' Doc's got work to do."

The gray haired nurse rolled her eyes and scurried off to start her rounds.

Doc glanced at his wrist chronometer. "Almost break time."

He sauntered down the hall, and ducked into his office. He was about to grab some energy pudding, when he glimpsed a shiny red custom Avenger pull into the parking lot.

"Mmm. Nice. I want one." His brows quirked up as he took in the sleek elongated design of the racing machine. "Colour is perfect too."

_Probably the chief of staff showing off again… _

A guy in his late twenties or early thirties, rounded the speeder and swung open the passenger side door.

_Or not…_

A very familiar brunette stepped out. Doc inched closer to the window and pried apart the slats of the blinds to watch them. It'd been well over a week since he'd seen his wife in person.

_That must be the SIS agent…something…Balkar. _

The agent paused next to Liatrix and stooped a bit to listen to something she was saying to him. He nodded his agreement to whatever it was, flashed her a million credit smile, and escorted her towards the building. Doc frowned. The agent's hand hovered over the small of her back as he escorted her. She wore a leather jacket he hadn't seen before. Judging by the size of it, Doc guessed it was Balkar's.

Doc pinched at his moustache and narrowed his eyes.

_I wouldn't trust that guy for a second._

Doc knew his sort. Hell, he _was_ that sort once. Devil-may-care hair, sexy racing speeder, and the over-the-top 'hey look I'm an agent' leather coat. No doubt he'd be putting the moves on her soon, if he hadn't already.

_She's your wife…nothing to worry about._

Doc smirked for a moment, but then it faded. Liatrix hadn't been herself ever since Korriban. Everyone had noticed—the droid, Rusk, Kira. If Lord Doom and Gloom noticed, he never said, but then it wasn't like he and the Sith made a point of chatting about feelings. No matter how he'd tried to reach her, she was distant, cool and quiet, as if calculating every word she spoke before she spoke it.

_I suppose nearly dying might do that to someone. _

Whatever information the Emperor had recorded on that holocron, must have been something worth dying for.

Doc felt a twinge of grief. How different things might have been if she'd never gone to Korriban. He frowned and checked the calendar—the child would have been born in about eight weeks. It should have been a joyous time for them.

There wasn't a day that went by, that he didn't wonder if he had done the right thing in keeping their loss secret from her. The most important thing then was her recovery, and later, he could never find the heart or will to talk to her about it.

_She's probably stopping in to see Leeha first._

Doc headed towards critical care. He caught sight of them, but trailed behind, watching with an eagle eye. The agent seemed to look for any excuse to touch her. After they disappeared into Leeha's room, Doc lingered in the hall and eavesdropped.

"Ready to wrestle some gundarks yet?" Liatrix teased.

Leeha chuckled softly. "I wish."

The agent chuckled, and the sound of chairs being moved followed.

"You look better. I was scared we'd lose you."

"If it wasn't for you and Agent Balkar...I'd be dead now. I owe you two my life."

"I'm pretty sure your surgeon had a little something to do with it too." Said Balkar.

Doc leaned in a bit closer._ Maybe he's not so bad, giving credit where it's due._

"Oh he did, and I already thanked him. I'm lucky to have such good friends."

"Is there anything we can do?" Said Liatrix.

"No, no. I'll be fine, but I'm going to be here for another month. Could you send a directive to the Meedees to keep an eye on things for me?"

"Sure, but where's Jomar?"

"He went back to work. He was here all day yesterday. I slept most of the time though." Leeha moped.

"That's too bad, I'd hoped to catch him."

"It's probably just as well you didn't." Said Leeha.

Liatrix cocked her head, her expression puzzled. "Why?"

"He's angry…" Said Leeha.

"Surely he doesn't blame Liatrix for the shooting?" Said Balkar.

"He just needs some time. By the way, have you learned anything new?"

"Jonas thinks the round was intended for me, and after what happened this morning, I think he may be right."

"Please be careful." Said Leeha.

"Don't worry about me. You focus on getting better."

Doc frowned and took a few steps back.

_What had happened this morning? Another attempt?_

Doc strolled into the room as if he'd just arrived. "Hellooo ladies." Doc drawled cheerfully. He glanced over at Balkar and nodded. "Agent."

"Dr. Kimble."

Doc didn't bother to insist the agent call him by his nickname. He enjoyed the formality between them. It made him feel like they were on more equal footing. He turned his back to Balkar and focussed on his wife and her friend.

"I knew it was going to be a great day. My gorgeous wife is here, and you Leeha…look like a million credits. How do you feel?" Said Doc.

"A bit stuffed up in my chest, the dizziness comes and goes." Said Leeha.

"I think we need to up your dosage a bit." Doc tapped in various codes on the medical console until the kolto drip changed colour. "That…should just about do it. Now I hate to break up the party, but _you_ do need to rest." He nodded matter-of-factly at Leeha.

Liatrix squeezed Leeha's hand. "I'll take care of things. Don't worry."

Leeha's eyes began to grow narrow and heavy as the medication took effect.

Out in the hall, Doc slipped his arm about Liatrix's waist and pulled her against his hip.

"So, how about some lunch gorgeous?"

She glanced back at the agent. "Would you like to join us Jonas?

"Thanks, but like I said I have some work to run in. You go ahead. I'll be back in an hour or so to pick you up."

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

Balkar nodded and glanced over at Doc. "Nice meeting you."

Balkar beat a hasty exit. It was pretty obvious her husband didn't like him. Then again, if he even knew half of the things he wanted to do to his wife, who could blame him? Stomping the accelerator, Balker tore out of the parking lot. He knew what he had to do next.

Doc studied his wife's somber expression and quirked a brow. "You've hardly touched your food. Is there something I should know about?"

"Lord Scourge is missing."

"Bah," he waved his hand dismissively. "Lord Doom and Gloom can fend for himself."

"Someone is trying to get to me. I want you to be careful. I'm going to call the others later and warn them too." Said Liatrix.

"So gorgeous, how about you and me head back to my office for some _us_ time? I might even remember to lock the door this time." He grinned sheepishly.

"We need to talk." Liatrix winced, knowing how that sounded.

"I thought that's what we were doing." Doc picked at his moustache and sighed. "You okay?"

"Honest answer? No. I'm not." She sighed.

They strolled out of the cafeteria and stopped at his office. Once inside, he closed and locked the door.

"Say something. You're making me nervous." Said Doc.

"I don't even know how to…" She pressed her fingertips to her lips, her eyes tearing up.

"Hey, now you're _really_ freaking me out."

She bit down on her lower lip and turned toward the window. "I never wanted to hurt you. I still don't, but I think it would be best if we separated." She rubbed at the tears that streaked her face.

Doc's mouth dropped and his thick brows jerked together. He stood for a moment, unable to say anything. He shook his head incredulously.

"What? Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Is there someone else?"

Liatrix pressed her lips together in a tight thin line. The tears wouldn't stop.

"And that right there says it all." Doc barked. "So…who is it?"

She held her elbows, trying to will her insides to stop shaking.

"Well say something dammit! I have a right to know." He threw his hands up in the air and stormed to his desk. "Don't tell me it's that…that agent." He sneered.

"I don't know who I am anymore. I need to figure things out."

Doc stared at her from behind his desk, brandishing a patient file like a shield. His thoughts fixed on Korriban the night she almost died…the red he'd seen in her eyes—the dark side.

"You're a Jedi. And you're my wife. What else is there?"

"That's just it. I feel like there's more, and I don't know what path to take. Please don't be angry. I'm begging you. _Please_."

"Don't be angry? How the hell can you expect me _not_ to be angry? You don't want to be with me anymore." Doc slapped the file against his desk, hard enough to scatter his papers and notes. "There's someone else, and you don't even have the guts to tell me who it is."

"I'm not the same girl you married. I've changed. So much has been lost." She murmured.

"Don't talk to me about loss Liatrix. You've no idea. I lost too. I've been coping _by myself_. It's been killing me, keeping it from you. Grieving alone."

"What are you talking about?" She murmured.

"That night on Korriban? Our baby died in that cave."

Liatrix froze, her eyes wide and unblinking. "What did you say?" She whispered.

"You heard me. You killed it with your traipsing around in caves, on a planet you had no business being. Chasing some stupid holocron, maker only knows why."

She took a step back, and then another. Her lips quivered and she threw her hands over her face and drew a staggered breath.

"You should have told me." She croaked.

"Your injuries were so bad, I was afraid you'd give up if you knew. I wanted you to live. And damn Scourge. It was his idea to keep it from you."

She held herself to keep from shaking so much. "You _both_ knew…and neither of you said anything. The others too?"

Doc nodded. "I told them, so they'd understand. Kira lied to the Council for you and ran extra missions, so that you could stay off The Council's radar for a while."

"I had a right to know. I sensed something was wrong."

"Sweetheart," he bit out, "Something was off even _before_ Korriban. I just chalked it up to having to keep _us_ a secret from your Jedi buddies."

"Why tell me _now_?"

"Because I _want_ you to hurt. I want you to hurt as much as I do right now." He turned his back to her.

"You don't think I hurt?"

"Not as much as I do. I don't even want to look at you. Don't worry, you'll have your freedom if that's what you want."

She stared at him, her eyes glossy and red rimmed. "You should have told me." She choked out.

"Things could have been so different." Doc turned around slowly. "Get out."

She held herself, and stayed close to the walls. Doc slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the paintings lining the hallway. She shuddered. The world around her became a blurry muddle. She was vaguely aware of someone calling out to her. She shook her head and kept walking until she was outside. Sobbing, she rested her hand over her stomach, but there was only emptiness.

She wandered through the parking lot to the street, dimly aware of the roar of speeders zooming past. She could have touched them if she wanted. Moving closer to the guard rail she looked down. Thick tears fragmented when they collided with the metal rail. Even breathing hurt.

"Peace _is_ a lie." The words she feared to speak were suddenly a revelation—a truth that begged acknowledgment.

_T__here is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power.  
>Through power…victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.<em>

At the surveillance base, Balkar sipped steaming jawa juice from a Lemmy's take-out cup. With the flip of a few switches, the monitors lit up.

He sat down, and started the playback.

He forwarded through the hours Lord Scourge knelt before the pyre, meditating…dozing? Who could tell? The Sith Lord left, returned and paced. Balkar replayed the holo conversation between Scourge and Liatrix. Not so much to analyze the conversation, but more as a way to hear her voice.

He watched the Sith attempt to engross himself in studying rituals and scrolls, and losing to distraction. Scourge flicked through frequencies on the holonet until he landed on a news team reporting vague news of the shooting at Lemmy's.

Balkar forwarded the recording again, and jabbed the play back button when Scourge drew his lightsaber. The scarlet blade growled like an angry nexu. With a flick of his wrist he sent the bedroom dressers sailing at the horde at an incredible speed. The plasteel furniture splintered, but did little against Mandalorian steel.

"You fools." He hissed.

The mercs assaulted the Sith lord from two fronts, a rush of armored men pouring in from the foyer, blasting rounds of bright fire from their blasters and assault cannons, and the rest descending the stairs that led from the top floor. The dark lord cut down merc after merc, until one of them had the presence of mind to launch a thermal detonator, blasting the bedroom and hallway apart. The Sith Lord was momentarily felled, just long enough to encase him in carbonite with a wrist canister. The carbonite crumbled and cracked. Scourge was breaking free.

"Keep on 'im boys. We need more." A dozen mercs blasted Scourge with portable carbonite units, until he was solid and unmoving, arms out, as if he were about to choke the life from their throats.

A muscular Chiss stepped over the bodies, and stooped to claim the Sith's lightsaber. "We'll just hold on to this. Pack him up. Make sure he doesn't go anywhere." His baritone was like keela soaked sandpaper.

A shifty Devaronian popped up behind the bounty hunter and whistled. "Did you have to shoot up the _whole_ place? Some of this stuff was worth a small fortune."

"Hey Runt…you started without me." A houk mercenary growled.

Balkar tapped a few keys, enlarging the faces of the command team.

"I _know_ you." He mumbled. With a few key taps, he pulled up a dossier about the last Great Hunt winner.

The Chiss tilted his head, dedicating his attention to the incoming message on his earpiece. Balkar upped the volume. A young female voice crackled. "Trouble's on the way."

"Clear out. Darth Creant will be wantin' his trophy. Mako set course for Dromund Kaas. We need to put space between us and this rock ASAP."

"Sure thing boss."

Balkar downloaded an encrypted copy of the surveillance recording to his server at the SIS.

He took a sip of his jawa juice, as he tapped out a holo frequency. "Hey Jysk, Balkar here. I need a favour. Can you get a hold of our asset in the Mandalorian enclave, and see what she knows about the last Great Hunt winner, and any jobs he's doing for Darth Creant? Yeah, he's a Chiss. Big guy. Thanks."

He reset the surveillance, in case anyone else came knocking at the condo. He rubbed at his face and took a deep breath. "Better get out of here, or I'll be late."

The console beeped and Balkar frowned. "What now…" He muttered.

"Balkar here."

"This is Zane."

"And to what do I owe the pleasure Senior Agent Zane. You know I've missed you."

"Don't get cute Balkar. I'm calling to let you know, you're off the Jedi's case. I'll be taking over."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been draggin' your feet long enough. I've connected the dots Balkar."

"What are you getting at?" Balkar barked.

"I have the freighter captain the Jedi hired. It wasn't the Sith who attacked the force sensitive Gamorreans on Vzer."

"Okay, I'll bite. What makes you say that?"

"Because one of them…remembered." Zane sneered. "You can imagine that sent up all kinds of red flags to The Council."

"You can't just…this is _my_ case."

"Not anymore. Zane out."

_Aw hell. This just gets better and better. _

Balkar narrowed his eyes. "You want anything else Zane…you're going to have to work for it."

Pocketing the surveillance discs, he rushed back to his speeder. He tore out onto the skyway and scowled.

_Things couldn't possibly get worse._

((To be continued))

((In other news this week, I finally got my debut novel ready! ETERNITY AWAITS by E.V. EMMONS on AMAZON)) /B00PMETP8W


	7. Chapter 7

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 7)**

_Things can always get worse._

He should have thought of that, before issuing an indirect challenge to the universe to do its worst. Balkar leaned on the railing of his balcony for the second time in under a week. The night was clear and cool—good for thinking.

There were moments he felt as if he were under water, and he wasn't sure which direction the surface was. He wanted to do the right thing, but what was that exactly?

Balkar drew a heavy breath and exhaled slowly. The view, with its myriad sparkling lights and distant stars, was the very definition of a beautiful night. Too bad it was lost on him.

His thoughts flashed back to the moment he found her. Empty, haunted eyes looked past him, when he turned her away from the guard rail. When he wrapped his arms around her, he could feel her body tremble like it would never feel warmth again. Then he held her like he never wanted to let her go.

No matter how he pleaded with her, she remained still, silent and absent. Kimble must have done a real number on her. He had half a mind to beat some sense into the man. Whatever he had done or said, destroyed her. He rubbed at his forehead, working the flesh until the ache flattened into a tired buzz. He needed a drink.

He glanced at the time. The shot, his medic friend next door, had given her hours ago would be wearing off soon. She was suffering some sort of traumatic stress—they were able to get that much.

The patio door hissed shut behind him and he was grateful for the warmth inside. The hospitality droid had dropped off a kettle of nerf stew and fresh bread. He thought simple food was best for tonight.

He ran his hand through his hair and lingered in the bedroom doorway, watching. Even with the shot, she slept fitfully. She looked so small and helpless in his bed. There were moments he could scarcely believe that this was the Jedi, who leveled the ultimate blow against the Sith Empire.

She murmured in her sleep and twisted under the covers. She clutched her abdomen, and for a moment he thought she might be in pain, when something occurred to him. He exhaled heavily and ran his hand over his jaw. His sister had gone through it, and it made perfect sense. His brows pinched together, forming a deep groove. There were moments he felt like he'd known the Jedi for years, and then moments like this, when he realized, he didn't really know her at all. He truly had no idea of the struggles she'd encountered.

Balkar settled on the edge of the bed, and took her hand in his. He ran his thumb over the bird like bones that defined her hand. He leaned in and brushed a kiss over the rosy knuckles.

Liatrix stirred and her eyes flickered open. Something of the warmth in them had returned. Maybe it was the last of the sedation wearing off. Maybe it was the result of much needed rest. He wasn't sure.

"Hey." He whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Numb." She tried to sit up.

He reached out to prop the pillows against the headboard. "Take it easy. Don't overdo it." He warned.

"I'm fine." She lifted her chin, her lips tight, but no sooner had she said this, her stoicism crumbled. He drew her close and held her.

"Talk to me. I'm a good listener, remember?" He whispered against her ear.

"They were keeping secrets from me. Doc, Scourge, my crew. I understand why they did it, but I feel betrayed, just the same. I should have been told."

"Yes you should've. Maybe not right then, but definitely when you were stronger."

"You _know_? How?" Liatrix pulled back, her eyes wide.

"A guess. I can read people pretty well, and my sister went through it too. I'm very sorry. If there was a way I could take the pain away, believe me I would."

She hugged him tightly and sobbed against his shoulder. "Thank you." She managed. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. You go ahead…let it out. I'm here."

"I…I'll be okay. I'm just glad you're here. I wish I could stop thinking about it." Said Liatrix.

"You need time. Try to focus on right now, I think that would help. First order of business, we should eat. Come on." He drew back, and stood. He extended his hand. "Hold on to me, if it helps."

He watched her work at her supper, relieved that she was eating, even if it was just a bit here and there. Her colour had improved, and she was starting to open up. By the end of the meal, he had learned everything that went down at the hospital while he was away.

_If he ever crosses my path…_

Balkar felt his knuckles tighten at the thought. To distract himself from the impulse, he cleared their dishes and put them on the trolley for the service droid.

"Let's see what's on the holo." He flicked his remote at the large screen across from the couch.

A journalist for RepNet stood shivering in front of a building Balker recognized. Despite his occupation, he had only had a few occasions to visit the Coruscant Detention Facility.

One side of the building lay in burning shambles. He recognized Senior Agent Zane, milling about in the background. The journalist's voice carried through the room.

~~In a daring prison break downtown, a well-known underworld figure being held for SIS questioning, was liberated from a holding cell earlier tonight. Miraculously, no one was injured. More as it becomes available. And now to weather…over to you, Grelco?~~

Liatrix shook her head. "Anything but the news, _please_."

"Your wish is my command…maybe some music." He clicked on music-net and set aside the remote. "I'll brew a pot of that _amazing_ tea." He smirked.

She smiled slightly and turned her attention back to the concert.

_Could he be that lucky, that the freighter captain had escaped custody? Most of the damage had already been done…_

He puttered, taking his time preparing the stale mint tea. He sighed heavily.

_I should tell her. No…it'd be too much right now. Wait…_

He nodded to himself, deciding that the little voice in his head was right. He didn't want to risk overwhelming her. Scourge abducted, a broken marriage and a painful tragedy was more than anyone should be expected to handle in a single day. The right time would come, but it wasn't now. Then again, the case wasn't his anymore…

Balkar shook his head. There was no avoiding it. His case or not, she would have to be told and he would rather it came from him directly.

He took the tray out to the sitting room, and passed her a mug of the hot drink. "Careful."

"I've got it. Thanks." Her expression seemed to brighten, but before he could enjoy it too much, his holo-console chirped for his attention.

"Never a dull moment." He muttered, and sprinted over to the console.

"Jysk." He glanced over his shoulder. Liatrix's attention was fixed on the concert.

"What have you got for me?" He said in a low voice.

"I've set up the meet with the asset. She'll be at The Scarlet Bantha, near the back, in one hour."

"One hour?" Balkar hissed, deliberating.

"She has no other window. Now…or never." Said Jysk.

Balkar sighed. "Okay. I'll be there. Thanks." He clipped off the holo and glanced over at Liatrix. He hated leaving her, but taking her was even less of an option. The asset responded best to a single male, and it would be too much, too soon.

"Is everything all right Jonas?" Liatrix glanced over at him.

"Yeah, but I have a meeting I can't get out of. Are you going to be okay here by yourself, for a couple of hours?"

"I think so. You go ahead."

He snatched up his leather jacket, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. "I'll try not to be any longer than I have to."

She reached back and gave his hand a squeeze. "Okay. Too bad you have to miss this, it's really good."

"Maybe I can still catch some of it, when I get back. You want anything while I'm out?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." The Jedi smiled, and her ocean blue eyes sparkled.

He grinned, and left for The Scarlet Bantha.

On the skyway, he thought back on the last moments with Liatrix.

_It feels so normal…so right. Having her there…seeing me off on a job…waiting for me…_

He parked his speeder at the back, away from the line of assorted custom Walkhars near the doors. Figures that the asset would choose this place…a well-known biker bar.

He threw back the front door. The bar exhaled a thick cloud of blue smoke in his face. He pushed his way through the muscle bound crowd, making his way toward the back. The place was packed, and the din of hundreds of gruff voices surrounded him.

_No music? _

Then he saw why. The jukebox was busted. A sign with large sloppy print said 'Out of odour.' Balkar smirked, and continued on.

He scanned the booths at the back of the dive, when he spotted the maroon coloured Mohawk, poking out over the top of the seat.

Pausing at the table he tilted his head and flashed a million credit smile. "Long time…"

She turned to face him and beamed. "Well sugar, ain't you a sight for sore eyes." She looked him up and down and smacked her lips. "Why, you look good enough to eat, and I'm starvin'."

Balkar chuckled and slid in across from her. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Ain't you sweet to lie." She winked, and pushed a mug of ale toward him. She sipped at hers and let her green eyes swallow him whole.

"So, what have you got for me? Jysk explained what I need?"

"Well sugar, I just wanna make one thing clear. After tonight, I don't owe any more favours to y'all, and I need a guarantee that I won't be hearin' from them anymore."

"You have my word."

She leaned in close. "Needless to say, you didn't hear this from little ole me. That Sith, my hunter took was worth a lot of credits. My boy stands to make a serious amount of money for that haul, and I want my cut for setting it up, so make sure he delivers before you go bustin' things up got it?"

Balkar nodded. "Not a problem. I don't plan on interfering with your hunter or his pay day. I just need to know where his bounty is going to end up. I know they were headed for Kaas, but I doubt they're going to linger."

"You got that right. After laying low for a bit in Imperial space, he plans on takin' him to Hutta. Plenty of places to hide out there. Lucky for you, I'm gonna give you the co-ordinates for the location." She pushed a small data pad at him.

"Darth Creant going to be there?"

"I'd be guessing he would, yeah."

"Any idea what he's hoping to achieve with all this?"

"Sugar, do I look like the sorta gal a Sith Lord would confide all his secrets to?" She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"I have to ask, it's the job." Balkar chuckled, and took a sip of his ale.

"So, now that we have all that nasty business outta the way, you wanna give me a proper send off?" She winked.

"You know I would…"

"I sense a big ole butt comin' my way. You've gone and found yourself someone special, haven'tcha hun."

"You could say that."

"Lucky gal. Never thought I'd see you tied down. Always figured you were slipperier than a greased up bormu."

"You always did have a way with words."

"Oh you, go on, get outta here." She laughed and waved him off. "Plenty of prime nerf roamin' in this bar. I'll be just fine."

He chuckled and ambled out to the parking lot.

Liatrix glanced toward the balcony. There was no one there, and yet she felt ill at ease, like someone was watching. The last time she felt this way was at Lemmy's just before the shooting.

She muted the concert and rose, cocking her head to listen. She registered a shuffling footfall in the hallway. She reached out with the force…it wasn't Jonas. Whoever it was, was tapping the key coded entry. She shifted her gaze, until it landed on what she was looking for—her lightsaber.

The door to Balkar's apartment groaned open, and a stern looking man in his forties stood in the doorway.

"It's usually polite to knock first. Can I help you?" Liatrix met the man's stern gaze with one of her own. Her attention flickered to his hip holster. He was armed with at least one pistol, though she suspected he had other concealed weapons by the way he held himself.

"I see Agent Balkar left you here all alone Master Liatrix."

"You have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?"

"Senior Agent Zane." He took a few steps into the apartment and reached back to shut the door, all without taking his eyes off her. "I take it he's never mentioned me."

"No. Should he have?" She squared her shoulders and arched a brow.

"I'm surprised. He has you here right under his own roof, and yet is unable to file a report."

"A report about what? Am I under some sort of suspicion?"

"An interesting question Master Jedi." Zane took a few steps closer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I think you do. You see, I had a certain Twi'lek freighter captain in my custody earlier. One that had been hired by you, to capture and forcibly remove a population of force using Gamorreans on Vzer. Your only mistake, was blaming a Sith for the action, and that Sith ends up dead."

"Sith end up dead all the time, for plenty of reasons, not the least of which, being that we're at war with them. Have I killed Sith? Plenty of them, including their Emperor. I can't remember them all."

"I bet you didn't count on the Gamorreans to remember the attack…or that they would tell someone on the council. And when they did…there was no mention of any Sith."

"There would be no mention of any Jedi either."

"It's also interesting, that this freighter captain escaped custody tonight."

"Are you trying to blame me for that too?" Liatrix crossed her arms.

Zane chuckled mirthlessly. "You are too arrogant."

"And you are too presumptuous."

"The worst of it, is that you're going to drag down one of our best agents with you. You've seduced him, or worked some of your force mumbo jumbo on him, to keep him from reporting on you."

"I've done nothing of the kind." She narrowed her eyes. "I am in protective custody, because someone is trying to kill me. Perhaps you ought to look into that, instead of dredging up this non-sense."

"Oh Master Liatrix…you may have him fooled, but not me." He took a few steps closer and took up Balkar's long leather coat that lay folded over one of the chairs. He patted down the coat, until he found what his was looking for. "He's even with-holding evidence for you."

Liatrix's gaze fixed on the data discs that Zane pulled from Balkar's inside breast pocket.

"I'm going to say this again. I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Then let me spell it out for you Master Jedi. He'd been assigned to tail you, and gather evidence on your misdeeds. He failed, and now it's my turn. I don't fail."

"I don't believe you." Liatrix snapped.

"Let's just see, shall we?" Zane took one of the data recordings and fed it into the computer console. An image of her and Lord Scourge scantily clad in their bedroom flickered across the screen."

Liatrix's lips pressed together into tight thin line. She felt a swell of anger building deep inside.

"Oh look, another transgression. I thought Jedi were forbidden personal attachments…or marriages for that matter, at least not without the Council's awareness. So, one crew mate is your lover, another your husband. Where do the lies begin and end Master…or shall I call you…Lord, or perhaps Darth?"

She remained silent and kept her gaze locked on Zane.

"I think I have more than enough to take you into custody." He drew his pistol.

"I don't think so." With the speed of thought, her lightsaber flew to her palm. Igniting the crimson blade she took a few evasive steps away from Zane.

He pulled the trigger, but his rounds bounced from the blade with loud hissing sparks.

"You _are_ a Sith."

"You assume too much." Liatrix hissed.

"If you kill me, you'll be a fugitive…"

"I don't have to kill you." Liatrix's lip edged up. With a flick of her wrist Zane hit the wall hard enough to break the big screen monitor. He slid to the floor, his head lolling forward, and pistol loose in his hand.

Liatrix retracted her lightsaber and checked Zane. Unconscious, but still alive. She kicked his pistol away from his reach. Snatching the discs, she sprinted to the balcony, hopped the rail, and dropped.

((To be continued…))


	8. Chapter 8

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 8)**

The serving droid set down another three shooters in front of Jonas Balkar. He tipped the shot down his throat, grateful for the numbness that spread through him. He turned the empty glass over and smacked it down on the counter like a dramatic victory. Another dead soldier in a long line up.

_She isn't coming back. She isn't answering your holos. Give it up, while you actually still have a job. Scourge should be grateful he's numb. This is costing me a fortune._

After the small voice in his mind stopped chiding him, he tilted back the next shooter in line. He sucked in a sharp breath, and squeezed his eyes shut to clear his vision. They didn't call it 'wreckila' for nothing. It was efficient and thorough, and Balkar planned on getting thoroughly and efficiently drunk tonight. He upended the glass and smacked it down next to the others.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Take a look around. Plenty of sexy brunettes here. Pick one. Hell, pick two._

He scoffed to himself at the last suggestion his mind's voice offered. The lights and music pulsed around him—a dizzying cocoon of fake joy. He idly turned the final shooter glass in semi-circles and exhaled heavily.

His career with the SIS was dangling by a thread. If Senior Agent Zane had his way, he'd end up processing case files in the basement. Was it just the concussion talking? No, Zane was deadly serious. There was no finagling his way out of this one.

_You had no business trying to hang onto the Jedi._

His conscience was right. It was nice while it lasted, but trying to hold onto her was like trying to hold fire in his bare hands.

The air smelled like sweat and a dozen different perfumes. He tipped back shooter number three, and hailed the serving droid for another round. He took a deep breath and scanned the dance floor. His gaze fixed for a moment on the nubile bodies gyrating and grinding against each other. So many scantily clad girls, so little time. There were definitely possibilities there. Then he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"What d'you know 'bout what I can handle? _I_ know. Trust me I'm a doctor. I can lizard more than you handles think." The male voice slurred.

Balkar stood and watched as two Trandoshian bouncers dragged the man towards the door by his armpits. The good doctor was in full activist mode, the heels of his shoes leaving drag marks on the carpet as he resisted.

_Kimble. _

Balkar's eyes narrowed and his fists tightened. He followed the trio to the doors, and when the Trandoshans ejected the doctor from the bar, the agent followed.

"Bet your Goddess is _real_ proud of you four losers." Doc shook his fists at the Trandoshians. One of them stopped, about to turn around, when the second one caught him and shook his head. He growled something under his breath that Balkar guessed meant, 'he's not worth it.'

Doc whirled around and stumbled. He straightened and glared at Balkar. "Well, look who it is, Mr.-_I_-have-a-red-avenger. So where's my wife tonight?"

"I wouldn't know." Balker growled. "But this is for what you did to her." He cranked his left arm back and threw a punch hard enough to drop Doc on the pavement.

"You broke my nose." Doc clutched his face and mumbled through his hand. Webs of blood clung between his fingers.

"You're lucky I don't break anything else."

A cab pulled up to the entrance. Balkar threw back the door, and dragged Doc by the scruff to the cab. "Take Dr. Kimble home." He then threw a handful of credits at the droid. "That should cover it."

He slammed the cab door shut and stalked off. "Not the kind of brunette I had in mind." He muttered to himself. His breath ghosted around him, as he considered returning to his bar stool.

_Better to quit while you're ahead._

Balkar hailed another cab and slid inside.

"Seven hundred Skyline Terrace. Take your time."

The droid punched in the co-ordinates, and the cab zoomed off.

Balkar leaned back into the mushy leather seat. He fixed on the bright city lights as they streaked by, and let his mind empty. He thought on Kimble and smirked. That felt good.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. The doctor was more astute than he had given him credit for. Doc's accusatory question suggested that he was onto him…maybe even believed that he was the one responsible for Liatrix's change of heart. He drew a deep breath, and a wave of pity towards the doctor surfaced. If he was honest with himself, they weren't all that much different. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest.

The cab slowed. Balkar was home. No sooner had he paid and stepped out of the cab, his holo went off. He dug into his coat pocket and jabbed the button.

"Hey sugar. Just a heads up, my hunter's made the delivery and he's been paid. You've got the all clear for Hutta."

"I appreciate it." He couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Why you look like nine sectors of bad space. What's wrong sugar?"

"Rough day at work. Nothing I can't handle, but thanks for asking."

"All righty then. See ya 'round the galaxy hun."

"Take care." He clipped off the holo and stuffed it back into his pocket. He exhaled heavily, and stood on the center of the landing pad, watching the speeders zoom by.

"Guess I better learn to love processing case files." He ran his hand over his jaw and started for the garage.

_You're an idiot. Why yes, yes I am._

Liatrix stood on the bridge of The Defender. "Feels so empty, with just the two of us here. Did you send the messages I gave you?"

"Yes Master." The ship's droid took a step forward. "Will the rest of the crew be joining us, Master?"

"No. I've gotten them into enough trouble. It's up to us to get Lord Scourge back."

"Of course Master."

Liatrix set a course for a deserted corridor of space and cut the engines. She revelled in the stillness and the silence.

"Keep an eye on things, I'm going to meditate."

"Yes Master, of course. Did you notice, I replaced all the stuffing in the seat cushions for your comfort while you were away?"

"No, but thank you. You have the bridge, ID-V8."

Liatrix retreated to her bedroom and knelt. The room held so many memories. She closed her eyes to block out her surroundings and the reminders of a happier time. As she tried to still her mind, her thoughts dwelled on Jonas. Her brows twitched together miserably.

_I won't drag you down with me. _

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, and pressed her lips together in a thin line. He _had_ lied to her, just like everyone else. He had been sent to spy on her because The Council had grown suspicious of her. No doubt, that was what Master Satele was trying to ascertain that day in the temple on Tython.

But he had also protected her, and risked his position with the SIS for her. He was on her side…but why? Was it pity? She remembered his kindness and the unapologetic kiss he'd given her. She remembered the warmth of his body next to hers as they slept in his bed…and the temptation to reach out for him. Tears crept under her lashes when she closed her eyes. He would hate her, but that was for the best.

She needed to find Lord Scourge, and then they needed to disappear. The time had come to let the rest of the world fade away. He had the knowledge of centuries, and this knowledge would keep them safe. Then they could find a way to truly be together. Somewhere in the universe, there had to be an answer.

Liatrix focused and reached out with the force across the galaxy. Further and further she pushed through the darkness. She felt the weak and distant spark of Scourge's immortality. His body slumbered, but his mind was active. He was dreaming and plotting. She saw flashes of colour and memory—her own eyes looking back at her. She saw the memory of their first encounter on Quesh, and then again across a chasm of unformed realities. He wore his darkness like a mantle, filled with faces she recognized but did not know, all of them crumbling under the burden of time and pain. She saw the dark cloaked figure of the Emperor on his throne, and when he pulled the black twisted mask away, it was her own face staring back at her. She shuddered and felt a jolt, breaking her connection to him.

_I could almost reach him…_

"Master, pardon the interruption, but there is a message for you on the holo."

She clenched her teeth, trying to hold onto the fragment of Scourge's consciousness, but it was gone. Her eyes snapped open and fixed on the droid.

"Are you all right Master? You look pale and your eyes…"

"I'm fine." She stalked past the droid, to the conference room. After taking a moment to collect herself, she tapped the holo console. A Sith Lord she had never seen glared down at her. He was older, perhaps in his fifties, heavy set with bright yellow eyes and pale rust coloured skin. There was something familiar about his eyes that bothered her.

"I am Darth Creant, and I have something of yours. If you want it back, you will set a course for Hutta, and find me at these co-ordinates."

"What is it you want Sith?"

"All in due time."

"You have nothing I want." Liatrix hissed.

"You almost sound like you mean that, but _I_ know better Jedi. You _do_ want him, and I _know_ the lengths you're willing to go to get what you desire."

Darth Creant evaporated from view.

"Master?" Said ID-V8.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Liatrix shook her head. "Set a course for Hutta."

Balkar crouched low and tuned his night vision macrobinoculars. There was movement at the site on Hutta. A pair of Imperial troopers loaded cargo into the external access of a freighter's hold. A Sith Lord emerged from the cave and met with a pair of others—apprentices, he guessed by the way they fawned and cowed over the elder.

He strained to hear them and frowned when he couldn't. After a moment, the apprentices stalked up the boarding ramp, and the elder vanished into the mouth of the cave.

When the ramp retracted into the hull, and the thrusters fired, Balkar sprinted and stumbled through the dank vegetation towards the ship. He cursed the lingering effects of the alcohol under his breath.

He pulled a magnetic tracker from his pack and lobbed it at the hull. He exhaled a breath of relief, when the tracker stuck and initiated. He ran his hand over his face, as if this would clear his fogginess.

Balkar skulked closer to the cave, and scanned the structure. It had one major opening at the front, which could be easily observed and protected. The cave continued for several hundred meters before its terminus. There was a small fissure towards the back, big enough for perhaps one man to breach.

_My lucky day. Or not._

He winced as several troops moved out of the cave to encircle a lone figure approaching the cave. Balkar craned his neck to get a better view. He didn't need to see under the dark hooded cloak to know who it was. He recognized Liatrix's predatory grace. The troopers drew their weapons, and held their position as the Jedi passed by.

_Aw hell._

He scowled and ran his hand over his jaw. If he revealed himself now, any advantage would be lost. He exhaled heavily and watched her enter the cave.

_Dammit_.

Balkar watched as the troopers positioned themselves before the mouth of the cave. A roar and a bright light announced the arrival of an Imperial shuttle. Landing next to the entrance, it remained on stand-by. Clearly the Sith didn't plan on lingering.

Keeping low, Balkar made his way along the exterior of the cave towards the fissure. He hoped he wasn't too late.

Darth Creant took a step forward and regarded Liatrix.

"Good of you to come Jedi. I see the former Wrath means a great deal to you."

"What is it you want Creant? Why would he or I even matter to you?" Said Liatrix.

"You haven't made the connection yet. Allow me to enlighten you."

Liatrix jerked her head. "Get on with it."

"I wonder, if you even knew her name before you slayed her."

"Who?"

"My daughter, Meresin. The one you sacrificed to The Well of Undying on Korriban. She had my eyes."

"What makes you think I had anything to do with her death?"

"I have a rare force gift Jedi. I call it necro sight. With a simple touch, I saw that it was your face my daughter saw, before falling to her death."

Liatrix remained silent and still. "So you lured me here to avenge her, is that it?"

"You're remarkably short sighted Jedi. I want something far more valuable—your life."

"You took a gamble. There was a good chance I might not have bothered to come here. Lord Scourge means nothing to me."

Darth Creant laughed, the sound shrill and mirthless. "You may hold to that if you wish, but we both know it's a lie. You see, I know the story of The Well, and the holocron hidden there. I also know that anyone seeking that holocron wishes to revoke immortality. The only reason you would wish to undo that alchemy, is because you desire him."

Liatrix's lip edged up at the corner. "You assume too much. I wanted to kill him. I had no more use for him."

"You sound more like a Sith than a Jedi. I can feel the anger swelling within you." Creant croaked.

"One has to understand darkness in order to fight it."

"The Wrath is not here by the way. I ordered my apprentices to make sure he's never found. Seize her."

The commandos moved in, weapons poised. Liatrix drew her lightsaber and leapt to a high ledge.

"You've made a big mistake Creant." Liatrix hissed.

"No…it is you, who has made the mistake. Your desire, will be the foundation of the Republic's ruin, and my vengeance." Creant cranked his fist, and brought down enough rubble onto the Jedi to knock her from the ledge.

One of the troopers below fired a tranq dart, sticking her shoulder. Another stuck her in the back of her leg. She felt her strength and her connection to the force ebb.

"It comes full circle Jedi. You may have destroyed our Lord Emperor, but you will be the instrument for His triumphant return."

Creant stood aside, allowing a pair of medics to strap a device to her arm. "Take the samples."

"Yes My Lord."

Despite the tranquilizer in her system, Liatrix's body twisted sharply as they drew the bone marrow, muscle and blood from her body.

"This should suffice My Lord."

"Excellent."

Darth Creant took the canister and stalked out of the cave with the medics and his personal guard. He paused near the entrance and turned toward the troopers that remained. "Once I'm underway…kill her."


	9. Chapter 9

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 9)**

Balkar's palms cracked and bled from the progress he'd made down the cave walls. Inside, the air was thick and musty, like breathing in a sandstorm. A few earthy crumbs had somehow worked their way inside his mouth. He spat, and looked down.

_Just a bit more…_

Inching his way from crevasse to crevasse for a solid hold, he felt something cool and metallic graze his palm. He furrowed his brows, and peered over the ledge to see what it was.

A heavy cable had been worked into the rock and soil, and as his gaze followed the concealed lines, he realized the cave had been wired with a web of detonite charges.

_Frag me. This just gets better and better._

He sprang from the ledge, and landed in a crouch. Drawing his blaster pistol, he skulked along columns of stalagmites. He stopped and shirked behind one of the stony spires. A squad of Imperial troopers encircled a body on the ground. His breathing hitched.

_Oh hell._

"We have the all clear. Darth Creant is away. Ready…aim…" The metallic voice was followed by the unmistakable sound of several clicking rifles.

Balkar winced and reached into his pack. He pulled the ring on the syntox grenade and lobbed it at the troopers. The gas would be fatal. He'd have only a moment to run and cover her. He pressed his SIS issue re-breather to his face and waited for his chance.

The troopers withered, the clatter of their armour echoing in the cave as they crumpled into heaps.

Balkar loped towards the Jedi and sucked in a deep breath before pulling his mask off. He pressed it into place and pulled the strap over the back of her head. Throwing her over his shoulder, he sprinted for the mouth of the cave. The warm rush of Hutta's toxin polluted air hit his face like a curtain. He gasped and caught his breath. Balkar never thought he'd see the day he'd be so grateful to breathe the air here. He trudged across the swamp, keeping to the shadows of the half dead trees and rubble. Then came the blast.

Balkar felt himself propelled forward into an awkward twisting arc and lost his hold on Liatrix. She tumbled and rolled in front of him, and he landed in a heap on top of her. He pulled himself closer on his elbows. A rain of stones and sharp debris battered his back. Positioning himself over her, he kept her from getting the worst of it. He winced as the assault continued and the skyline burned.

He chanced a look up. The scraggly trees burned, and flaming remnants of hanging moss fluttered to the ground.

_Can't stay here. _

He turned different plans over in his head. Deciding on the best one, he slung Liatrix over his shoulder and started for his ship.

Once aboard, he settled the Jedi into the adjacent chair and strapped her in. He furrowed his brows and pressed two fingers against the side of her neck. He felt the steady bounce of her pulse and exhaled a heavy breath.

"A'right we need to put as much distance between us and Hutta as we can." He muttered to himself as he tapped the ship's controls.

The ship rose swiftly and steadily before vanishing among a blur of streaking stars.

A lone cloaked figure looked up, watching the ship make its getaway.

Liatrix gasped and drew a greedy breath of cool fresh air. Her eyes snapped open and her attention darted around the lavish sun filled room. The air had a familiar sweetness to it…she knew that scent—Alderaanian nectar. The curtains were thick and expensive, and the columns were accented with aurorium bands. There was the faintest hint of classical music filtering into the room.

She rose slowly, feeling the press of bruises almost everywhere. As more and more details reached her, she recognized the room. She had stayed here before as a padawan—a guest of House Organa. She winced at the tumble of memory. Master Orgus was still alive then. She felt a keen sting vibrate through her at the thought of him. She missed him still. What would he think of her now? She frowned.

Catching her reflection in a gilt framed mirror, she noted that she had been bathed and dressed in clean clothing, and her hair had been brushed out.

The view was no less breathtaking than she remembered…mountains and forests as far as the eye could see. Her eyebrows quirked up...

_How did I get here?_

Hutta flashed through her memory, and her purpose for going there…to confront Darth Creant and get Lord Scourge back. She had failed on both counts. The last thing she remembered was the firing squad and being unable to move. She felt a lump on the back of her head, the size of a coin.

Padding out of the opulent sleeping quarters, she made her way down a long hall, until she found herself in the visiting room. A tall familiar silhouette darkened the window. He was dressed in the elegant dark clothes of Organa nobility.

"Jonas." She approached him and smiled. "I guess I have you to thank for saving me. I should have known you had something to do with it. But how?"

He stood silent, his back to her.

"Are you all right?" She crept closer and peered up at him. His brows etched together tightly enough to form a deep groove between them. His lower lip was slightly swollen, a small cut bisecting the tender flesh. Another cut lanced across his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." He turned away from the window, but didn't meet her gaze as he passed by.

"Obviously you're _not_ fine. You're angry."

He stopped and whirled on her. "Of course I am. You were almost killed right before my eyes. You ran away from me. _Again_. I thought we were a team. I thought we could trust each other."

"I didn't have much of a choice. Agent Zane showed up, accusing me of everything under the sun, including being Sith. He was going to arrest me."

Balkar shook his head. "You should have contacted me. Pick up a holo once in a while. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to walk in—find that you were…gone and Zane there, trying to shake off the mother of all concussions…and a sprained shoulder." He pressed his hands to his hips and shook his head. "I've been disavowed by the SIS. We're both fugitives."

"Why?"

"You _know_ what they wanted _you_ for. Now add assault and battery against an SIS agent, interfering with an official investigation and possible involvement in freeing captives from the Coruscant Detention Center. Me…for aiding and abetting you, misuse of SIS resources, and now the charge of damaging Hutta's ecosystem on top of it all."

"I'm pretty sure Hutta was already ecologically damaged, before either of us showed up." Liatrix shook her head incredulously.

A short derisive chuckle escaped Balkar. "I was told not to go after you…to stop protecting you."

"Then why did you?" Liatrix set her hands over her hips and stared at him, her brows tight.

"You really don't know the answer to that?"

"I don't know the answer to a lot of things."

"It's not like you were in a state of mind to be on your own right now. I hated having to leave you that night. But I had to."

"Why did you lie…you didn't report on me, but you _have_ been spying on me. I _saw_ the discs." She winced, her cheeks flushing.

Balkar dropped his gaze to the polished marble floor. "You've been through a lot. I wanted to tell you the truth, but the timing stunk. I just wanted to protect you. I figured you'd turn tail and run away. And sure enough, you did."

"How did you know that I'd be on Hutta?" Said Liatrix.

"A hunch. That meeting I had to go to…it was to meet my contact. She had information about Lord Scourge. That's how I knew to be there. It was pure dumb luck we ended up there at the same time."

"It wasn't luck exactly. Part of it, was the force…part of it was Darth Creant. He summoned me there. I knew it was a trap…"

"But you went anyway, _alone_. I don't know what gets into your head sometimes." Said Balkar.

"I know you didn't have to come after me…but I'm glad you did. I'm grateful." She tilted her head and peered at up at him.

"You have any idea what I've been through these last couple of days?"

"No." She murmured.

"I punched your husband—broke his nose." He shook his head, and roughed up the back of his hair.

Liatrix's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

"I was out…trying to forget. He crossed my path. He had it coming for what he did to you."

"Trying to forget…what?"

Balkar lifted his chin and stared at her matter-of-factly. "_You_. And you see just how well I managed that."

"What are you saying?" Her brows quivered, and she drew a shallow breath. "On second thought…I don't…" She shook her head.

Balkar clasped her wrist. Her lower lip trembled.

"Ever since that first time I laid eyes on you, I've felt something, a connection. When I met you, it felt…mutual. Am I wrong?"

"Jonas…"

"Am I wrong?" He pressed.

"No…but I…"

Reaching out, he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He leaned in slowly, and tilted his head. He watched her expression for an eternal second, and then brushed his mouth against hers. Her lips were warm and soft—pliant in response to his gentle coaxing. When she didn't pull away or stop, he pressed her back against the column and deepened the kiss. She tasted like sweet exotic spices he couldn't name but craved.

She moaned softly into his mouth and he felt her hands travel up over his chest to his back. Her fingers splayed over him to keep him close at first, and then wormed under the thin material of his shirt. Her hands were cool against his skin and he shuddered. He turned her way from the column, urging her back toward the divan in the center of the room.

"I still think the Starship graveyard would have been a better choice Ivanar."

"No Cheris. This is much better. Darth Creant ordered us to make sure he is never found. On Hoth, you have all those blasted pirates rooting and scrounging. One of them is liable to find him, and turn him loose. Do you really want the former Emperor's Wrath alive and free to find us?"

"No…but do you think he can sense us…he is frozen in carbonite after all." Said Cheris.

"I _know_ he can. I can feel it. The force writhes in him…it's like…nothing I've ever felt before, and I want to be damn sure he isn't getting out. Not in this life time anyway."

"Let's hurry then. It's hotter than hell here, and I'm dying for a drink."

"Just a drink? Said Ivanar.

Cheris chuckled. "It's a start…to what usually follows."

"Then let us make haste. It's been far too long since I've felt you close to me. Damn Creant. We need to deal with him one of these days."

Ivanar and Cheris accelerated over the dunes, and winced at the clear blue sky.

"It's too bright here. I hate it." Said Cheris.

"As do I. But…there it is. Welcome to the Great Pit of Carkoon."

"What is that thing?" Cheris hopped from the speeder and peered over the edge at the rows of sharp spikes lining the maw.

"That, my love, is a Sarlacc."

Ivanar dismounted and set to unchaining the carbonite trophy from the rear of his speeder.

"Are you sure he won't survive that?"

"No, but after being digested for a thousand years, do you think it will matter to either of us, if he does?" Said Ivanar.

"Do you think it will kill that…what did you call it, a sarlacc?"

"Cheris…you astound me. You're Sith. Who cares what happens to it? I don't."

"You're right, of course my love."

"Help me push him in."

((to be continued…))


	10. Chapter 10

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 10)**

_Help me push him in._

Cheris's thin arched brows knitted together as she approached Ivanar and the carbonite case. She felt a breath against her ear—a breath that became a whisper. The sensation was so palpable, that she felt a riot of shivers travel down her spine and her flesh erupted in goose pimples under the oppressive Tatooine suns.

She felt compelled to answer, but there was no one there.

_Help me push him in._

The whisper shifted around her like sandy dust demons—ethereal, enticing…potent.

Ivanar hunched over the carbonite slab, steering and pushing the encased Sith lord closer to the pit.

"I can sense his power. The force squirms within. Let's get this over with." Said Ivanar.

Cheris nodded, and stood at the rear of the case.

"All this sand has ruined the hydraulics. It's heavier than a wet bantha."

She curled her fingers over the push bar, the metal hot to the touch. She fixed her pale eyes on Ivanar and watched him.

"Let me try something. If it doesn't work, you push, I'll steer. On three."

"Yes." Cheris nodded slowly.

Ivanar glanced back at her, and positioned himself next to the foot end. He tapped at the controls, making one more attempt to fire up the hydraulics. He grimaced and shook his head, when the mechanism sputtered and quit. "It's fried. Going to have to do it the hard way after all. One…two… and three!"

Ivanar shrieked and tumbled head first into the waiting mouth of the sarlacc. He writhed and wiggled, until he managed to poke his head and arms out.

"Cheris! Help me!" Ivanar clenched his teeth and winced. He grasped at the sides, clawing at fistfuls of sand for a hold. He thrashed and looked to Cheris. The sand poured through his fingers, and lower and lower he slid. Tentacles slithered up through the sand and tugged him into the undulating gullet.

"Don't let me die…" He choked.

His eyes protruded, enormous with desperation and disbelief. He gasped for breath as the creature below the sands constricted around him.

"How could you—Cheris."

Cheris stared at him until the last moment. With a final sickening gurgle, he was gone. She looked at her hand, her fingers still splayed wide. The throbbing pulse of released energy lingered in her palm.

She took a step closer to the pit and peered into the toothy mouth, the beaky tongue still thrashing from the excitement of the meal. She considered jumping in after him. Being devoured over millennia, was no less than she deserved. Ivanar had watched over her, protected her from more aggressive Sith during their days at the academy and during the years after. She wouldn't have survived without him.

_What have I done?_

A tentacle curled dangerously close to her feet, and a burst of self-preservation kicked in. She backed up and dropped her gaze. Her pupils darted from side to side and her breath came in short shallow bursts. She would grieve later. Right now she had to think.

She sat down hard in the sand. Drawing her knees up, she felt tears slide down her cheeks like slugs. She trembled inside and felt the prickle of sunburn on her pale skin.

_What do I do now?_

Her first impulse was to bolt, but there was no running away from this. Darth Creant would find her wherever she went. She _had_ to return. She would tell him it was an accident. Maybe he would believe her. Maybe he wouldn't.

_A Sith must orchestrate their own promotion._

She remembered the master's lesson. There was no reason Darth Creant would believe Ivanar's death was anything but a power play. He would believe she took her chance. He had always thought her weak, perhaps his opinion of her would finally improve.

She frowned. Creant was a particularly sadistic taskmaster, and they had discussed planning his demise many times. The only reason they had not acted was because they knew, even together, they were not strong enough to end him. She would be stuck with Creant until one or the other was killed.

She chewed her lower lip and gazed off into the too bright horizon and winced.

_Why did I do it? I knew coming here was a bad idea. Why wouldn't he listen?_

Her thoughts tumbled in wild patterns, as she puzzled over different outcomes and possibilities. She huffed a deep breath and crossed her arms.

_It wasn't my fault. Something made me do it._

She felt a sensation coiling about her senses again and she shivered. Whatever drove her to murder Ivanar was back.

"Go away." She hissed aloud.

The invasive whisper spoke inside her mind.

_Release me. _

She sucked in a shallow breath and glanced around, as if expecting someone or something to strike a fatal blow. She pulled in her lower lip to keep it from quavering.

_Release me. _

The whisper was more insistent this time and echoed around her—until it became hundreds of whispers piled one on top of the other. Sinister and beguiling, the male voice hammered inside her skull. The command shouted, but remained no more than a whisper.

Cheris pressed her hands to her skull to keep it from flying apart, and then screamed. Not even her own noises were enough to silence the whispers.

Her scream died in her throat when she realized it had stopped. The air smelled like bile and acid, and she was certain she was being haunted. A place like this, was no doubt full of troubled spirits.

_I am no ghost._

Surely it couldn't be...

Her gaze shifted over to the carbonite form. She felt herself rise, her limbs propelling her toward the carbonite casket, each step awkward and clumsy, as if she were a marionette being urged along by some unseen puppet master. Her thoughts threatened to disorganize, when she tried to think for herself.

Reaching out, she tapped at the control panel. The indicators blinked in sequence, and then unified into solid blush coloured lights. The case bellowed and hissed as the tibana gas compressed inside escaped at the corners. The air shimmered and reeked like the rotten egg smell of cheap blaster cartridges.

The form trapped under the gun metal grey carbonite grew more vibrant, until it glowed bright red, and the metal faded away to reveal flesh almost the same colour. She stumbled backwards, as she watched the pure blooded Sith male thaw in the case.

Enormous, dangerous and possessed of gifts acquired over the centuries, the enormity of her situation dawned on her. If he could manipulate her while frozen, what would he do, when he was free? No wonder Ivanar was terrified, and rightfully so.

The man did not move. He lay still and silent within the mold and she hoped that by some miracle he was dead.

She drew her lightsaber and crept closer. Almost within striking reach, she felt the muscles and tendons in her throat constrict, driving all air from her lungs until she turned pink and her cheeks tingled. Cheris convulsed and the lightsaber tumbled from her grasp. She landed in a heap next to it and reached out for the gently curving hilt. Her fingertips barely grazed the weapon, when she felt it speed away in a graceful arc and slap against the palm of the now fully thawed former Wrath. He sat stock straight, and then swung his legs out to stand. He cast a long wide shadow over the apprentice, and did not waver.

Her brows quivered and she stayed on her knees and clasped her hands. "My Lord, please don't kill me."

"Weak pathetic rodent. You dare call yourself Sith." Scourge hissed.

At once, Cheris recognized the dangerous whisper that had taken control of her before.

"My Lord Wrath…I…"

"Silence. I will not abide your snivelling. Who is your master?"

"D-Darth Creant, My Lord."

"And to what point and purpose was this ill-conceived plan wrought?

"I don't understand."

"Then I will speak plainly. Why did your master do this?"

"It was a trap, to catch a Jedi. The one they say killed The Emperor. You were the bait, My Lord." She tilted her head. "How can you see? I thought there would be sickness…and blindness."

"With the force, one does not need eyes to see, or strength to stand. What did he want with the Jedi?"

"She killed his daughter. His only child."

"He wanted vengeance."

The apprentice's lower lip quivered. "More than that My Lord."

"Spit it out, I don't appreciate dramatic pauses."

"He wanted bio samples from her. To present to the Emperor, as a gift. The caretakers would need it for their alchemy, he said."

Scourge narrowed his eyes, his lips tight. Cheris thought she might die just from the look in his eyes.

"Samples? Why not take her prisoner? Where is the Jedi now?"

Cheris winced and sobbed. "Oh my lord…please…don't make me…"

"Quit simpering and answer me! _Where _is the Jedi?"

"D-Dead. She is dead, My Lord."

Scourge's brows furrowed to form a thick deep crease between them. His fist tightened about the lightsaber hilt hard enough, that he thought it might crack. He couldn't deny she spoke the truth. He had felt the Jedi during his repose. The touch was feeble and distant, and then it was gone—cut short.

"Your master. Where is he?"

Cheris tilted her head and considered the Wrath for a moment. The man was the epitome of composure. Calculating, unaffected, glacial. Perhaps, she still had hope. Perhaps, he would even rid her of her problem.

"His base, is a secret even to me. But the location is programmed into the nava-computer aboard our ship in Mos Anek. I can take you…I can lead you straight to him. You can kill him." Cheris dared another glance up at the hulking Sith lord.

Scourge circled the apprentice, and twisted one of his tendril rings.

"My Lord Wrath?" She murmured.

He sensed a note of hope in the apprentice's voice and stopped before her. Without him, she would die by her own hand before the next moon. He opened his palm, as if to beckon to her.

She reached out for him with a trembling hand. He meant to help her, she was certain of it. Perhaps, she might even travel at his side, and be _his_ apprentice.

Lord Scourge pivoted his hand, thick fingers splayed.

"Your services, are no longer required."

The apprentice shot backwards, into the sarlacc's waiting beak. Her shrill scream pierced the clear desert landscape, the sound no doubt carrying for miles before it fell silent to the sarlacc's squishy gurgles.

Scourge mounted one of the speeders, fired it up, and swept past the pit with a very wide arc. Letting the force guide him, he closed his eyes, and envisioned Mos Anek…

Across a chasm, filled with infinite outcomes, she reached.

_So much darkness_.

Stars and worlds blazed around her with dizzying speed, carrying her further and further into the past. She sought the wisdom of long dead Seers. The answers, she hoped lay with them.

The dry fruity and metallic smell of space gases bubbled through her blood, carrying her ever further, until everything grew still and silent, surrounded only by a shrinking light. Reaching for the bright spot at the core of The Force, she held out her hand, hoping that she would be allowed to see. The light permeated every fibre and cell, and she was one with the force.

The visions were hazy at first, and difficult to capture. She felt a guiding touch lead her to what she needed to see—the hero.

A warrior for the light, but dangerously close to darkness and corruption. A soul filled with despair and resentment, devoid of hope, and longing for something she could never have—this desire, the foundation of her downfall. A void existed at the soul's center, one that hungered with such passion, it would consume and take, but never able to satiate the longing and want that had made its home there.

The change in the soul was almost complete. Was it possible to stop it? That answer remained elusive. The guiding force carried her closer to her own time, and then beyond it. The planetary systems she had seen in her mind's travel, only moments before, were now graying husks. There was only darkness, only the entity…and it wore the hero's face.

She saw an ethereal holocron form from the dust of dying stars, and within the warning: Fire is divinity, and the flame of destruction, will herald the spark of the return. As it ends, so it will begin. No light can be, if there is no darkness.

The warning vanished, and other visions leapt up from the chasm of possibility—ceaseless battles—a collision of darkness and light, a descendant...secreted away out of fear, learning of the light amid the darkness. Many destinies revealed themselves in a fraction of a moment, and just as quickly, vanished.

The hero slipped away, elusive in the foggy plains of the Force.

She saw visions of those close to her, the sacrifices she made in her younger days. Her flesh and blood standing upon a precipice. He turned and glanced back at her, before sauntering off the edge into the waiting void.

Satele Shan's eyes snapped open. Her hair clung to her forehead in a sticky mess.

She had to find her. She had to be stopped.

((To be continued))


	11. Chapter 11

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 11)**

Balkar clipped off the holo, drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. The rain streamed down the windows in thick torrents that made the landscape look like it was melting. Alderaan wasn't known for its rainstorms, but when they came, they could give Dromund Kaas a run for the money. Only the lightning was missing.

A handmaiden padded into the room and set out a platter of tiny sandwiches and pastries on the small café table in the corner. She fussed over every detail and set out a bouquet of tiny pale blue flowers, that some liked to call 'remembrance flowers.' She peeked over at Balkar. He sensed her eyes on him and glanced over his shoulder.

"Asani, isn't it?"

"Yes sir." The maid blushed and nodded. "Sorry to disturb you. Lady Organa thought you might enjoy some refreshment." She set out a carafe and a single dainty cup with such diligence, that she was clearly trying to extend her stay or impress him for one reason or another.

"Kind of you and your mistress. Thanks."

"Oh you're very welcome sir."

He turned to face her fully. "You haven't seen Master Liatrix by chance, have you?"

"As a matter of fact sir, I did. She went to the rooftop garden. She's been there a long time." Her brow quirked upwards, but she fell quiet and cast her gaze to the elaborately woven carpet.

"Asani?"

"I'm sorry sir, it's not for me to judge." The handmaiden glanced at the window and hesitated. "It's just that no one ever goes up there when it rains and they certainly don't stay long if they do." She blurted. "I hope nothing is wrong sir." She had a canny look in her eye, as she voiced her concern.

Balkar guessed the maid had learned to think on her feet, given the intrigues and climate in the royal houses of Alderaan. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, could earn serious trouble. The way she lingered suggested she hoped he would confide in her. After all, an SIS agent and a Jedi Master arriving in the middle of the night and needing for a medic aren't everyday occurrences. Or perhaps it was the fact that they shared a bed. Linens don't lie. There was no keeping secrets from servants, and this one seemed particularly curious.

"Don't worry about it." Balkar smiled a tight lipped smile. The maid bowed stiffly, turned on her heel and left. The moment she left, his smile and shoulders drooped.

_Gotta tell her sooner or later._

Balker poured a drink and threw it down his throat. He hissed a breath at the burn sliding down his throat, and started for the roof.

A brisk breeze threaded through the garden, rustling the fronds of multi-coloured ferns. Exotic lilies wagged, mixing their scent with the mountain air. Balkar stood a moment and took it all in. The rain pattered the thick canopy, like a thousand impatient fingers. He scanned the garden for the Jedi, finally noticing her kneeling in the corner.

Balkar stood in the archway and watched Liatrix. She looked peaceful, resolute…stronger than he had ever seen her. _I can't tear her down again._

He turned away to leave.

"Don't go."

He froze. She didn't move or open her eyes when she spoke. "I was just thinking about something you said before."

"And what was that?"

She looked up at him with a well-rested gaze. Balkar's brows met. Her eyes looked more purple than blue in this light. His heart rate quickened, and he balled his right hand into a fist until his knuckles paled.

"That The Order doesn't teach us how to handle our emotions in a positive way." She looked up at him, her gaze earnest. "I can't go on pretending to be a machine—devoid of feelings. I can't deny who I am, or what I've become."

Balkar took a few tentative steps forward and stood before her. "What are you saying?"

He moistened his lips and caught himself holding his breath.

"Agent Zane wasn't entirely wrong about me. I'm no Jedi. Not anymore, if I ever really was."

"Zane's an idiot. Don't listen to him."

"He may be, but he articulated something I've felt for a long time. The Sith Code has made more sense to me these last few days, than the Jedi Code ever has. I can't deny it anymore."

"Oh sweetheart...you're _no_ Sith. Don't ever think like that." He murmured.

She looked down at her hands and sighed. "I hoped you would understand and accept..."

Balkar knelt before her and clasped her shoulders. "That's where you're wrong. I _do _understand. Better than you realize. You've seen and done things no one your age should, and it looks endless right now. I _know_. I feel that way too. But Sith are evil. You're _not_ evil."

"Jonas, you have no idea the lengths I'm willing to go…I'm tired of living behind a mask."

He tilted her chin up, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. "This is me you're talking to."

Stubbornly she kept her gaze downcast.

"The Sith do nothing _but_ hide who they are from everyone. They can't trust their friends or family. They spend their entire lives, as if everyone they meet has a huge knife hidden behind their back. You can't tell me you want to live that way." He continued.

"I'm tired of having to hide and lie and push down my feelings like they don't matter. There are moments when…when I feel like a flame. Alive but restrained." She lifted her chin, her eyes bright.

"You didn't always feel this way. Tell me something. You said you were happy once. Before you met Lord Scourge…"

"I was different before I met him. He's opened my eyes to a lot of things. I wasn't happy, I was just living up to expectations. My whole life, I've been taught to avoid disappointing others. I still catch myself giving in to expectations."

Something in the weight of her words, made him feel as if she regretted their nights together. Or maybe he was imagining it, to steel himself against a truth he didn't want to admit.

"I want to do something for myself, and that means I have to find Lord Scourge and find a way to release him from the Emperor's alchemy. He deserves that."

"There are some things you can't change."

"You don't know that. There has to be a way to undo this…_curse_. I won't accept anything else." Liatrix glared at him.

"I think even he had accepted it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Can I show you something?"

Liatrix jerked her head with a grudging nod.

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a data pad. He tapped in a coded sequence. "Pause at frame thirty-five twenty-seven. Resume playback, five second delay." He turned the pad about, and thrust it at her.

"I destroyed these."

"I'd made a copy before. It's encrypted in my database. My eyes only."

Liatrix watched the scene unfold on the tiny screen. Her lips turned down and her eyes grew glossy.

"That's after you left for the café. That's what trying to be with you did to him."

She pressed her hand over her mouth and drew a staggered breath.

"I knew it was bad…but not like this. Why are you doing this?" She squeaked.

"Because I don't want to see you destroy yourself. Sith are evil."

"Scourge isn't."

"Are you sure about that? Maybe he wanted to turn you to the dark side. Corrupting others is all just a sick game to them."

Liatrix gazed off into the distance. The memory was sudden and vivid as it slithered to the forefront of her mind. The words were spoken softly—every syllable curling and twinning about her senses, even at the mere recollection of it. Their cargo bay conversations felt like a lifetime ago. She missed him…his voice. Each word that fell from his lips contained implied enticements and her heart quickened even in uncertainty.

_Turning you to the dark side is purely for my own amusement._

"Liatrix?" Balker tilted his head and watched as she forced her vulnerability down.

"It's nothing."

"It's _not_ nothing. You _know_ I'm right. Not that it matters _now_."

"What are you talking about?" Liatrix tilted her head, her eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something. You have been since you arrived."

"Can you sense him at all?"

She averted her gaze, her lips turning down at the corners. "I haven't been able to feel him since before Hutta. I've lost him and I've only myself to blame."

"No Liatrix it's not your fault. There was actually a reason I came up here looking for you."

Balkar rose and turned to the balcony railing and leaned on it. The rain caught the backs of his hands and pelted the warmth out of them. Liatrix stood and took a few tremulous steps closer to him.

"I spoke to a couple of my contacts. There's been chatter Imp side, that you're dead. It's only a matter of time, before our people get a hold of that and run with it."

"What does that have to do with Lord Scourge?" Liatrix's eyes grew round and wild. "_Tell me_."

"I had a tracker on Creant's apprentices. They took him to Tatooine."

"Then we have to go there right now!"

"Liatrix, they took him to the Dune Sea."

"What does that matter? I'll find him."

"No, you won't. There was activity at Carkoon. A contact of mine checked it out. It would explain his absence. The ship was traced to a small moon in the outer rim afterwards. I don't think I need to explain what that means." He watched as his meaning sank in.

Liatrix paled and grasped at the garden wall to hold herself up.

"Easy there." Balkar dashed to her side and caught her arm. "I've got you."

"This can't be happening. It just can't be." She whispered. Her breaths came in quick short bursts.

"With everything you're going through…I'm still questioning if I did the right thing even telling you. Especially now. You're _no _Sith."

"Don't be so sure. I _want_ the co-ordinates Jonas. I need to know where they ended up. I don't care if I have to go to the ends of the known galaxy."

He snatched her wrists. "What are you thinking?"

She broke free of his hold and balled up her fists at her sides. "I'm going to kill them. Every last one of them." Her lips twisted miserably and her shoulders jerked.

For a moment he thought he might have imagined the scarlet gleam in her eyes. Perhaps he was already too late. Perhaps she had fallen long ago, and he was only seeing it now. "Fine. But you're not going alone."

"He _can't_ be gone. It can't be." She started for the stairwell. "I'll get him back if I have to cut open that damn sarlacc myself."

"You know that's impossible." He caught her, and pulled her close. "I'm sorry."

"I'd have felt it. I _know_ I would have." She sobbed.

He smoothed his hand over her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I need to be alone. I have to get out of here." She pulled away.

"Liatrix. Stop a minute." She hesitated and turned back to him. "You realize if you do this, what you're throwing away?"

She met his gaze but said nothing.

"It's too late to save him. Let them all think you're dead. It's a second chance. You could start over…do anything you want."

She dropped her gaze. "He said something like that right before this whole mess started."

"Maybe you should give it some thought."

"My mind is made up. I can't do that to my crew, especially not to Kira and Doc. They've suffered enough because of me. I know what it's like to lose a Master. Kira needs me. And Doc, he may hate me right now, but it wouldn't be right to just leave without saying goodbye."

"That's proof right there. You're no Sith. You still care about other people."

"I care about _my_ people. The rest be damned. Whatever I am, I _have _to do this, with or without you."

"I had hoped by now you'd realize it would be _with_. I'll make our excuses to Lady Organa."

Scourge frowned as the ship dropped into the lower atmosphere of Darth Creant's moon. The sensors blinked and beeped, throwing the readings into disarray. As he neared the surface the display grew more and more erratic.

He felt a tractor beam lock onto the ship and change its trajectory. After a brief and bumpy ride, the vessel finally ground to a stop on the landing pad. He tapped the controls and dropped the boarding ramp. He ran his thumb over the hilt of the apprentice's lightsaber and missed the weight and familiarity of his own weapon. Reaching out with the force, Scourge sensed a perplexing quality to the terrain.

The force existed only within tiny gaps between bubbles of camouflage. In these gaps, he sensed lifeforms—force predators of some sort. He had heard of this before on another world, where animals manipulated the force for their survival. Using the force to any advantage would be a challenge here.

Scourge snarled under his breath. He had grown reliant on the force to compensate for his lack of feeling and sensation—a luxury he would not enjoy in this place. He felt his way dimly from bubble to bubble, crouching under low branches, and carefully measuring his gait to avoid stepping on the carpet of reptiles before him.

He felt the weight of thousands of curious eyes bearing down on him. It had been years since Scourge had seen a world so infested with vermin, and so densely packed with life.

_Creant would do well to hire an exterminator. _

Scourge suspected Creant had settled here for this very reason. No Jedi or Sith in their right mind would take the trouble to traverse the moving mosaic of lizards and their force camouflage bubbles to reach him or risk being caught unprepared in a place that stole their very essence.

He thought on Liatrix. Where there should have been inconsolable grief, there was only insatiable anger. He had tried to foresee the Jedi's death many times but had failed. He took this as a sign that perhaps death would never touch her, and since the Emperor's defeat, he had elevated her to a pedestal of immortality that exceeded his own. After such a victory, for her to be taken from him by someone like Creant…

He growled and felt his hatred escalate in a volatile crescendo with each step he took toward the stronghold. Though he was unable to manipulate the force to his whim, he found that envisioning the onslaught to come was nearly as effective in stoking his rage.

He relied on his memory to form images of his Jedi…alive in his bed, and then lifeless and broken, where he would never find her. She had been taken from him, and he would exact the price of his rage on this world until nothing was left of it.

Despite the moving mosaic of reptiles at his feet, he progressed steadily towards the stronghold. Scourge could sense the confused predators attracted by his presence, beyond the camouflage.

He paused at the gated wall and considered it for several moments before plunging the lightsaber through the control panel. The force field evaporated.

Scourge strode through the gateway. A pack of slobbering canids, each of them easily twice the size of a full grown Tukata stood before him, snarling and tossing their heads. Some were missing parts of their ears. Others, missed sections of their muzzles revealing rows of yellowed piercing teeth.

Scourge stood before the pack, his gaze unwavering and fixed on the leader. He ignited the lightsaber, issuing an unspoken challenge to the beasts to do their worst.

((to be continued…))

((Merry Christmas, and Happy holidays to you all!))


	12. Chapter 12

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 12)**

The pack leader's hackles lifted like rows of serrated razors. Scourge stood his ground, silently appraising the force predators. Ropes of saliva hung from the beasts' mouths, lengthening and plopping to the ground in heavy dollops that sounded like eggs breaking. The beasts pawed at the ground and tossed their heads, snarling. The alpha was powerful, but young. Scourge suspected he'd won his rank by size and sheer physical prowess alone. The alpha female was the one to worry about. She had a canny gaze—intent and persistent as she searched the Sith lord for vulnerabilities. The runt of the pack, smacked a long blue-black tongue over where its muzzle flap should have been.

Scourge gritted his teeth. He could feel the heat and stink of their breath against his face. Even with his blunted connection to the force, he felt their hunger. Denied sustenance in a world that dripped with it only added to their fervor. Unable to restrain himself any longer, the alpha male lunged.

Scourge rolled forward and thrust the lightsaber into the alpha's belly. Blood and dark glistening entrails splashed over Scourge, soaking him. The beast wailed and fell over. Its legs twitched, and its tongue lolled out when it stopped moving. Scourge jumped to his feet and stood poised to strike. The metallic stench of blood permeated the air, driving the beasts into a frenzy. The alpha female's muzzle curled at the death of her mate.

The pack rushed Scourge, knocking him flat on his back. He swung the saber in an awkward arc, decapitating the smallest one. The beasts backed up at the growl of the lightsaber. Scourge flipped backwards and landed in a crouch, his cape suddenly heavy, as one of the beasts tore into it. His head jerked backwards and his torso twisted as he tried to compensate.

The beasts pounced, their jaws snapping just inches away from his face. He could hear the scrape of their teeth and nails against his armour. With the force, he could have dispatched them easily, but having only his own numbed senses would make victory a challenge. He felt the weight of their paws tamping him into the dirt as they tried to savage him. He brought his arms up to protect his head.

The alpha female locked on Scourge's wrist with enough torque to force the saber hilt from his grasp. It rolled beyond his reach with a clatter. Gnawing her way up Scourge's arm, she shredded the outer layer of leather. He cranked his body upwards, and bashed his head against another canid's skull. When the predator crumbled, he kicked the alpha female in the belly with his free leg.

She yelped and tumbled against the wall with a thud. Scourge scrambled for the lightsaber and grunted as his fingers curled around it. Raising his arm, he ignited it, just as another beast leapt towards him, jaws open to clamp on his throat. Scourge drove the blade up through the roof of its muzzle. The creature shuddered and dropped. The sheen in its eyes cracked and grew dull.

He retracted the blade and sprang to his feet. With a deft turn, he plunged the lightsaber into another beast's throat. The animal gurgled and choked, flailing at Scourge's feet as it died.

Scourge stepped over the corpses and regarded the remnants of the predator pack. Stupid with hunger and bloodlust, they showed no signs of retreat. The alpha female pushed herself up slowly and shook herself. Her hind leg quivered, as she struggled to stand. Craning her neck upwards, she emitted a long baleful howl.

Within moments, the thunder of many beasts approaching stirred the jungle and broke the foliage. Several packs teemed toward him, leaping and snarling. Scourge reached through the tenuous force connection in the jungle compound and fed off their ferocity. As their numbers increased, so too did Scourge's wrath.

Scourge sated himself on the dark canid energy until he thought he would burst. His vision flashed over, turning everything a monochromatic shade he remembered as the colour of blood. The hulking Sith felt a keen throbbing ache rip through him, as his hatred amplified. One by one the predators fell at his feet, including the sly alpha female.

Carving a path through blood and bone, he advanced on Creant's compound, leaving a bread crumb trail of twitching corpses. As they lay dying, he gorged on their fear and pain.

After the canids, there were men, scores of them—soldiers and Sith. Scourge seethed. The chemicals the Emperor had pumped into his body so long ago, sang with a mad fury. It was a sleeping power he'd almost forgotten since he'd fled his master. The liquid in his veins bubbled and gurgled, as the Emperor's gift took over. The world fell away, leaving only a void. There was no force and no eternity. There was only death and it wore her face and struck with his vengeance.

His skull reverberated with empty screams as he cut his way in. Blaster bolts faded under the growl of the lightsaber until there was nothing left. Pressing his palm to his forehead he squashed the flood of memories that shrieked through his mind—Revan, The Exile, the tubes that replaced his blood with immortality…the Emperor laughing. Her face.

He panted until he thought he'd be sick from breathing. His gaze shifted toward the grounds. The dead littered the ground as thickly as the lizards had beyond the walls.

Inside the fortress he paused in the main hall. Rows of transparent cases lined the walls. Each contained a trophy from Creant's conquests. His gaze fixed on a familiar item. Slamming his fist into through the glass, he reclaimed his own lightsaber. Igniting it, he held it aloft and sliced through the air, an extension of his terrible will.

The force damping effect of the reptiles ebbed as he neared the heart of the stronghold. Scourge's gaze fixed on the heavyset man seated at the far end of the meditation chamber. The figure turned slowly to face Scourge. Security monitors winked behind him, each a macabre picture of the carnage outside.

"All _this_, for a Jedi?" Creant croaked.

Scourge extended his lightsaber in challenge.

Creant sat up straighter. "We're pragmatic men. This needn't continue any further. I avenged my daughter. Surely all you have done here today is enough…"

"I could inflict horrors such as you have never imagined for a thousand eternities, and it would _never_ be enough."

"You loved her."

"I am incapable of it."

Creant chuckled. "Yet you inspired in her such passion that she turned her back on the light and murdered for you. In all my years I've never been privy to such a darkly passionate heart as hers. She could have been the perfect Sith."

Scourge swished his lightsaber. "I trust The Hand will be making every effort to make Him corporeal once more."

"What sweet irony, that the one who destroyed His last vessel should be the one to replace it."

"You're a fool. Give me the samples." Scourge hissed. "You don't know what He plans."

Creant chuckled. His brow arched, and a smile lifted his thin lips.

"Face me like a Sith. Draw your saber."

"I suffer no delusions my Lord Wrath. I am no more capable of surviving a duel against you than Tatooine is capable of becoming a rainforest. When my apprentices failed to return, I made preparations for your visit. I _know_ your secret. You long to experience mortal sensations once more. Let me live, and I will make it possible."

"I have no need. Spare me your futile attempts at bargaining."

"Ah yes, because the little Jedi is no more. Eternity is a long time my Lord Wrath. Think of it…taste, smell, colour, touch…all of it could be yours again. There was more than enough material to fashion another. Clones take only a few years to mature. A mere blink to someone like you. You could raise her yourself. Instill all that knowledge you carry. And with my gift…when she's mature, you could…"

"You _insult_ me." Scourge growled and levelled the lightsaber against Creant's throat. The monitors behind him shorted out and grew black.

"If you were truly offended, you would have killed me by now."

Scourge's eyes narrowed.

"Admit it Scourge. The idea is intriguing. You could be _everything_ to her. Think of all you could do. Only I have the cure to your hopeless longing, and sparing my life is such a small price to pay."

"The Emperor's gift cannot be undone."

"Not by any means known to _most_ Sith or Jedi. After my good friend Thanaton was murdered, I managed to slice into his replacement's logs. There is a machine that can remake you. You would be mortal again."

"Explain."

"Rakatan technology on Belsavis, in the depths of the prison. It's called The Mother Machine. I can give you a map, co-ordinates, a copy of the logs. All you need to do, is release me."

"And the samples?"

"I kept one…but the location will remain my secret, until I'm certain, you won't seek me out. When the time is right, I will send you the location of the vault."

Scourge sensed the truth in the other Sith and glowered. He lowered his saber and retracted the blade.

"We have an accord. Do not betray me. You'll wish you had died here today."

Creant nodded and tapped his data pad. "You should have no trouble finding it. The path won't be easy. Beware the Esh-kha."

"Do not make me regret this." Scourge's voice was barely a whisper.

Creant shuddered.

Within the hour, Scourge set a course for Belsavis and set it to auto pilot.

The ship rose into the sky, the jungle foliage below waving in the ship's wake as it blasted off.

Scourge closed his eyes and drew a long deep breath.

* * *

><p>Balkar whistled low. "Holy hell. Looks like someone saved you the trouble."<p>

Liatrix knelt and ran her hand over one of the dead canid predators. "They've been dead no longer than a couple of hours." The blood matted fur stuck to her palm.

The agent jogged ahead. "I can't believe what I'm seeing. Who or what could do this kind of damage?" His brows furrowed as he examined the humanoids. "It's got to be Sith—an army of them, judging by these saber burns and the sheer numbers. Looks like someone had it out for Creant as much as you do. Can't say I'm surprised. Someone like Creant must've had his share of enemies."

"It couldn't have been easy. Not with the interference I'm getting. It's like the Force has been cut off here."

"Those reptiles we saw on the way in. They look a lot like some I read about during my academy days." Said Balkar. "They have the ability to hide in the force, use it like camouflage—a defense against predators, which is what I'm guessing those were." He nodded at the dead canids.

Liatrix's gaze fixed on the compound. "Let's see if we can find Creant. I want to make sure the bastard is dead."

"Be careful. Whoever did this, might still be here." Balkar cocked his pistol, and tapped Liatrix's elbow. "Stay close."

He moved just ahead of Liatrix, careful to keep her just behind him.

Balkar paused to examine a broken trophy case. "Something was taken…a lightsaber, I'm guessing." He glanced over at the neighboring boxes. "Probably the owner…"

Liatrix nodded and followed Balkar. He shirked back and gave her an underhanded wave. She ducked into an alcove and waited.

Balkar backed up, his hands up.

"Put down your weapon." Creant hissed.

"A'right. A'right. You got me." Balkar knelt carefully and set his blaster on the floor. He rose slowly, keeping his hands up.

Creant kicked the pistol out of reach. "I don't often get visitors, now twice in one day. What are the odds? What do you want? SIS I'm guessing, by the look of you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Creant's eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched, and a weak burst of lightning forked into Balkar's chest. "You will tell me, or you will die."

Balkar shuddered and doubled over, gasping. "Is...this…how…you…treat…your…guests?

"Stop it right _now_." Liatrix stepped from the alcove, lightsaber extended.

The lightning faded and Creant paled. "You're _alive_. How is that possible?"

"That'll stay my little secret. On your knees. Hands behind your head."

The Sith lord obeyed, his gaze shifting between them.

Balkar scrambled to his feet, and snatched up his pistol. He panted and aimed at the Sith. "Who was here before us?"

Creant sneered. "You're going to have to kill me. Just like you did my daughter."

"Done." Liatrix growled and swung the lightsaber.

Balkar turned his head and averted his gaze. Creant's headless body slumped forward, his head rolling a short distance away.

"Jonas, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to do that."

"He wasn't going to answer. Besides there's more than one way to get information." She tipped her head toward the computer console.

"I'll see what I can get off the security cams…pull up his files." Balkar leaned over the console, keying in a variety of sequences. He pulled a spike from his inside breast pocket. "Quite a bit of it is encoded. I'll need some time to sort this out. Most of the cameras were damaged by the force of nature that blasted through here. I'd rather not have to do this here, just in case it comes back."

Liatrix nodded. "Agreed. The sooner we get out of here the better."

She walked over to Creant's head and looked into his dull yellow eyes. "His daughter really did have his eyes." She murmured.

Jonas glanced over at her before resuming his downloads.

"I have to wonder…whoever came for him, meant to kill him. Why didn't they?" Said Liatrix.

"That's the million credit question isn't it?" Said Balkar. "Okay, got it. Let's get the hell outta here."

High above the moon's atmosphere, a small unmarked vessel hovered, before dropping lower, to hide behind a planetoid.

((To be continued))

((Have a very Happy New Year everyone!)) :D


	13. Chapter 13

**The Foundation of All Desire (Part 13)**

Balkar stared at computer monitor. He ran the recording through the filters again, just to be certain. Now that the static and fuzz had been cleared from the images, there was no doubt in his mind. He leaned hard on the armrest of his chair, running his hand over his jaw. He needed to shave.

He watched as the two Sith met face to face. Leaning forward, he tugged the audio sliders into various frequency ranges, isolating and polishing each voice, to enhance the verbal exchange between them.

_I can't believe what I'm hearing…son of a Sith harlot. _

He sloughed off his earphones and paused the recording. The static marred the visuals in a pattern similar to terrazzo flooring.

Balkar glanced over at Master Liatrix. She poured over the logs he'd given her. From the look on her face, he guessed she was getting frustrated with decoding. It was a skill that tended to come easily, or not at all.

For a few minutes, he considered _not_ telling her. As an agent, part of his training had been to consider all options, and all possible outcomes. Mentally running each scenario etched the scowl lines deeper into his face. It was a no-win. He hated no-wins. He hated having no control.

He flinched at the touch he felt over his shoulders. He'd become so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed her come up behind him.

"Not having much luck either I see." She set to work at unwinding the knots burrowed into his muscles.

Her touch felt good, too good, but he shrugged her hands away and leaned forward onto the console.

"What's wrong?" Liatrix tilted her head, her gaze soft. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not a damn thing."

"You're upset…"

He stared off at the empty corner of the ship's lounge. He didn't look at her.

"Jonas…whatever it is…you can tell me."

"See for yourself." He drummed his fingers over the console. Liatrix jumped at the sudden loud hiss of static.

"Sorry." Jonas tapped another key, lowering the volume.

The static cleared. She leaned in closer, watching the massacre unfold. The elegant hulking figure swept across the courtyard, slaying anything or anyone in his way. His eyes blazed with pure unbridled hatred, teeth gritted as he cut down both beasts and men. Few could match Scourge's prowess in battle.

"He's alive." She murmured. Reaching out, she brushed her fingertips over the Sith lord's image. She sobbed and laughed at the same time. Her eyes were bright and glossy, thin smile lines winking at the corners.

Balkar turned away. He couldn't stand the joy in her eyes, because of _him_. He forced himself to focus on business.

"The recording glitches in the next few frames, but the interior cams pick him up again once he's inside. He and Creant…spoke."

"Were you able to make out what they said? I want to know why he let Creant live."

Balkar nodded and grudgingly leaned in, tapping keys to forward through the flawed section. He paused on the frame that showed Scourge reclaiming his lightsaber. Balkar stole a glance at her, and seeing her tears, he reached into his inside pocket and passed her his handkerchief.

She dabbed her cheeks and refolded the cloth square. Her brows furrowed as she watched the conversation between the two Sith.

"Is that all of it?" Said Liatrix.

Balkar nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. It looked like he was getting ready to clear out, before we arrived." He crossed the lounge and collected the logs Liatrix had been working on unsuccessfully and filed them away.

"I'm going to set a course for Belsavis. I know the deep prison…I'll find him." She started for the cockpit.

Balkar set his hands over his hips and called after her. "You still want to find him after _that_?"

Liatrix froze and turned to face him. "What do you mean? Of course I do."

"He wants to replace you like you're his dead nekarr cat or something."

"He _thinks_ I'm dead."

"That doesn't make it okay. You can't just replace someone…"

"He struck the bargain because of the machine. He wants to feel again. That doesn't mean he's going to replace me with a clone."

"Why would he bother with the machine then? It's exactly what he means to do. Don't you see how little you meant to him? He thinks he can replace you with a soulless, mindless look-a-like. Train it up to be exactly what he wants…Maybe he thinks he can get _her_ on the Dark Council."

"Stop. He's not like that. You're angry…because you hoped he was dead and now you're taking it out on me because he's not."

Balkar turned away and rubbed his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry." Liatrix returned to him and clasped his elbow.

Jonas pulled free. "Don't." His brows pinched together.

"Why are you blaming me?"

"Because you made me see just how empty my life was before. I want more, and I want it with _you_. To hell with Scourge. He's trying to turn you into someone you're not."

"So are you." She backed away and held herself. The holo projector chimed with an incoming message.

Balkar growled and stalked over to the console. "Someone has piss poor timing. Balkar here."

The projector flickered. "Agent Balkar. We've never met, I'm Kira Carsen…Master Liatrix's apprentice…well, atleast I used to be." The young Jedi didn't smile or fidget. Liatrix had never seen her quite so somber looking.

"How did you get this frequency? Are you on a secure line?" Balkar barked.

"Nice to meet you too." Kira drawled.

Liatrix rounded the console. "Kira! How did you know where to find me?"

"Master! Thank the Force. It's really you. I didn't know what to think. It's been crazy here. There's been talk that you were killed on Hutta…but then Saresh contacted Master Satele…Doc said you're with Balkar now?" She shook her head incredulously. "That's how I found you. And Scourge is missing still. What the hell is going on? Everything is falling apart."

"Kira, I don't have time to explain everything, but you have to distance yourself from me. I _mean_ it. That goes for the crew too."

"I'm worried Master. Corso Riggs and I, we, sorta sprung the captain out of jail. She said they interrogated her, but she didn't talk. I believe her, and I paid her to make up for what they did. This crazy agent, he keeps harassing me though. He thinks you made us do it. He won't leave us alone."

"Zane." Balkar grumbled.

"Yeah, that would be him." Said Kira.

"Tell me you secured the line."

"I think it is." Kira's image winced.

"Dammit." Balkar groaned and touched his forehead.

"Kira, it's okay. Calm down. Just stick to your story. Keep an eye on Doc for me, make sure he's okay."

"He's pretty broken up. Rusk and Tee-Seven are watching him right now...Well, more like an intervention…I guess he finally told you…I'm sorry Master."

Liatrix nodded and lowered her gaze. "Yeah…I am too. Look, I don't want you to worry about me. Just stay safe. I don't know when or if I'll be able to come home. Maybe I should let them believe I'm dead."

"Master this is crazy. _Come_ _home_. We'll figure something out."

"I can't. Not yet. There are some things I have to do first."

"The Council had an emergency meeting with Saresh and the SIS. That's why I had to find you, to warn you. They've dispatched a retrieval squad. This task force…they're acting like you've joined the Sith or something. The spaceports are crawling with SIS."

"We've gotta cut this short and get the hell outta here." Said Balkar.

"Thanks for the warning. We have to go Kira. Take care of yourself."

"Master no!"

"You'll be better off without me."

Balkar cut the connection. "I take it you're still hell bent on going to Belsavis?"

Liatrix nodded.

"Fine." Balkar stalked into the cockpit. "I'm going to try and put us down near the deep prison. Hopefully we'll get less attention that way."

"Isn't it restricted air space? Being a prison?"

"Yeah, but I've got a jammer. Not as good as a cloaking system, but good enough. Judging from what we saw before, all we'll have to do is follow the bodies to find him."

Liatrix slid in next to him, and strapped on the safety belt. She stole a glance at him. For the first time since they'd met, his face was cold, hard and impenetrable. Reaching out with the force, she felt his anger and frustration. She hated the niggling thought in the back of her mind that suggested he might be right. Even more, she hated feeling like two separate people, each with different desires, hopes and ambitions. She wondered, if she'd ever feel whole, or if she was even capable of dedicating herself to one love. Perhaps she was better off alone.

She slumped over the armrest of the co-pilot's chair and watched the stars stream by like white hot arrows.

* * *

><p>The air in the deep prison on Belsavis was stale and carried the stench of decaying flesh. Many had died within its walls, some naturally, but most were murdered by outsiders seeking the valuable Rakata technology hidden there. Scourge was no different and left behind clutches of dead bovine faced aliens and the droids they'd sabotaged.<p>

Scourge took in the details of the chamber. It was elaborate enough, that it could have been a temple once. A massive machine sprawled before him. He approached the control panel, his brows knitting with skepticism.

He studied the keys and controls. Many of the symbols were familiar to him. Time spent sequestered with The Emperor had its advantages. Access to ancient secrets was one. He tapped the keys lightly and was met with an unexpected groan as the technology came to life. Sparks sprang from one of the consoles, but seemed to exert little or no effect on the machine's viability.

Tall pistons rose, expelling jets of steam high up into the arched ceiling of the chamber. Scourge felt an unusual presence. Sentient, yet not quite alive…some sort of artificial intelligence.

"You're a trespasser here." The feminine voice warned. "You are not welcome here my child." The holo projector blinked rapid images of various species, finally assuming the form of a lithe Rakata.

Scourge considered the machine's words. "Why not?

"Because many of my children took advantage of me, and then left me imprisoned."

"That does not mean, that all of your children would. Tell me more."

"I am Ashaa, the mother machine. My children include the Zabrak, Twi'lek and Esh-kha. I was imprisoned here by the Rakata along with my children. They sought to restore their lost Force sensitivity by forcing me to create a new Force powerful species. What is it you seek?"

"I have been rendered immortal by alchemical means, which came at a terrible price. I no longer enjoy physical sensation, stimuli…emotion. I feel nothing, only pain and the numbness I mastered to endure it."

"I have been enslaved here so long, that time no longer holds any meaning to me. I can remake you, but unlike my other children, you must agree to free me. That is my price."

"Our situations are quite similar even if our cages differ. I agree to your terms. How do I free you?"

"Disable the terminals beside you. Once I am free, I will restore your senses."

"How do I know you won't flee, once I've fulfilled my end of the bargain?"

"We must trust one another, child."

"Very well." Scourge nodded, and disabled each console in turn. The task was far easier than he expected.

_The previous users must have already disabled security._

He turned back to the holo image of the Rakata. "It is done, yes?"

"Yes my child. I will never forget your kindness. Now, as promised, I will remake you. I must warn you, it may take considerably longer to restore you because of the alterations already made to your body."

"Understood."

Scourge ascended the octave of stairs leading to the restoration chamber. He stood inside the compartment, as if it were a simple elevator. He felt no excitement, only the dreary anticipation of the unknown, and what would follow if the procedure succeeded.

_If only my Jedi were alive…_

He looked out at the hologram, his scarlet gaze wistful as the doors heaved to a close. The Rakata nodded, and the unravelling began.

* * *

><p>Balkar set the ship down in a snowy clearing girdled by stone just outside the deep prison. Sensors showed another vessel a few klicks away at a deserted Imperial outpost, and another unmarked vessel near the Republic camp. Satisfied that their arrival had gone unnoticed, he lowered the ramp.<p>

He glanced over at the Jedi. She'd been silent for most of the trip. He didn't want to guess where her mind was. He was about to give her a nudge, when she reached over to unfasten her seat belt.

"I thought maybe you were meditating or something." He said softly.

"No. Just thinking." She glanced at him cautiously and rose. "I'm sorry about what I said before. You didn't deserve that."

"Actually I did." He smiled a tight lipped smile, his brows quirking apologetically.

He followed her to the ship's exit hatch. As she reached out to tap the door, he caught her hand in his and lowered it. Before she could protest, he kissed her. It wasn't a soft tremulous kiss, but one filled with longing and certainty. He held her face in his hands, deepening each kiss until they were both breathless. He pulled back, his gaze ardent and wanting. His thumb brushed over the swell of her cheek, before he released her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I just wanted to do that one more time." He opened the hatch and started down the ramp.

If it were days or merely hours that had passed, Scourge had no way to know for certain. Suspended within the chamber, he felt incorporeal—weightlessness paired with the vague sensation that everything churning around him was no more than a lucid dream. Was it worse to feel nothing, or to feel that nothing was real? He felt a swell of panic that perhaps he was still attached to the Emperor's terrible machine in the Dark Temple, and that three lifetimes of experience were all just a trick of the mind…perhaps even the Jedi was merely a figment to dull his suffering.

The Rakata was gone.

Scourge blinked rapidly to clear the bleariness that coated his sight. He winced at the sting he felt. Focussing hurt. There was activity near the console. What was it? Determined, he fixed his gaze on the movement, waiting until the smudge became form...a dark cloaked form…a Sith? Perhaps…

He squinted with great effort on the lined face, sections of it divided into light and dark quadrants. The man wore a crown of horns…

_A Zabrak…_

((To be continued…))


End file.
